


Path Already Traveled

by Clowns_or_Midgets



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Psychic Abilities, Sam's Hell Wall, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 06, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 90,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clowns_or_Midgets/pseuds/Clowns_or_Midgets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel prays for guidance, and someone answers. He and Sam set off on a journey to the past to save the future. Ties will be tested and personal battles fought for the sake of the world.</p><p>Beta'd by Jenjoremy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new story. I know that a time-travel-change-it-fic isn’t The most original concept in the fandom, but this idea occurred to me and—as has happened with pretty much all my stories—I had to write it.  
> Thanks to Jenjoremy for beta’ing. She not only makes all my missing commas appear and fixes all my misspellings, she genuinely makes the story better with her ideas.  
> Side note: A pet peeve of mine is Castiel being referred to as Cas in narrative. I have peeved myself with this story for reasons that will become obvious in future chapters. Hope it doesn’t ruin the story for you.  
> I hope you enjoy.

**_Chapter One_ **

 

_So, that's everything. I believe it's what you would call a… tragedy from the human perspective. But maybe the human perspective is limited. I don't know. That's why I'm asking you, Father. One last time. Am I doing the right thing? Am I on the right path? You have to tell me. You have to give me a sign. Give me a sign. Because if you don't..._

Cas sat up and rested his palms on his knees. There was no sign. There would be no sign, as God had forsaken them. Cas, the host, the humans were living in a world devoid of the divine now. Cas had never felt more alone or confused. His path was laid about before him, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the right path. That was why he had come here, to pray to his Father, but there was nothing. No voice telling him he was doing the right thing. No voice, except…

_‘Castiel, Cas, please answer. I need you. We need you. We have to talk.’_

The voice was steeped in sadness and concern. Cas had only heard Sam sound like this a handful of times before, and that was always in the direst circumstances. Cas was worried.

He was in motion before he even thought of what he was doing. His vast wings spread at his back and he took flight. It was a moment of motion, nothing to a human. Sam’s words had barely left his lips before Cas was standing in the kitchen of Bobby Singer’s house. On the table was an empty bottle of whiskey and a dirty glass.

He had made no effort to conceal the sound of his arrival, but Sam wasn’t waiting for him. He was standing beside the couch in the library, speaking softly. “There’s more water here, and the can beside you if you need to puke again. I’ll be close if you need me.” In answer there was a familiar gritty voice mumbling about not being a kid, and Sam huffed a laugh. “No, Dean, you’re not a kid. You’re a grown ass man that just replaced all the blood in his body with Four Roses.” There was a groan and the sound of the couch cushions readjusting as Dean shifted and then a soft snore. “Out like a light,” Sam said with satisfaction, and then he turned. He was smiling softly, a remnant of his interaction with his brother, and then as he caught sight of Cas his expression hardened. “Cas.”

“You prayed to me.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I did.” He cast his brother a quick glance and then walked into the kitchen and opened the back door. “Come outside. I don’t want to wake him.”

Cas followed Sam outside onto the porch and they stood in silence for a moment. Sam hugged his arms around himself to ward off the chill. He was wearing jeans but he had foregone his usual plaid in favor of a thin t-shirt. Cas had noticed in the past that Dean slept in his day clothes more often than not, whereas Sam tried to at least dress down a little for sleep. Cas didn’t think it was a matter of comfort as much as it was a desire to maintain a façade of normality, as if they didn’t need to be ready at all times to jump into action. Cas admired Sam’s pretence.

“You prayed,” Cas said again.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I figured we needed to talk.”

“I already spoke with Dean, Sam.”

Sam’s jaw tightened. “I know, and I’m guessing that talk is why Dean almost drunk himself into alcohol poisoning tonight, and I know I’m a poor substitute, but I just thought maybe we could talk, too.”

Cas stared into Sam’s eyes, seeing the swim of emotion there. Unlike Dean, who guarded every emotion he had, Sam was open with what he felt. Right now he was angry—possibly because of Dean’s intoxication at Cas’s impetus—but determined.

Cas disregarded Sam’s mention of being a poor substitute. It wasn’t true, not anymore, but Cas needed to remain impassive. He couldn’t allow himself to feel affinity or affection for Sam at the moment. “What do you want to talk about, Sam?”  

“The cage.”

Cas frowned. “Are you remembering?” Despite his determination to remain controlled, he felt a flicker of fear for Sam. Those memories would destroy him mentally and spiritually, He would be crushed.

“No. I wanted to ask you about it. You were there, right. You know what it was like. I want to know, too.”

“You cannot know,” Cas said firmly. “It would be your destruction. I will not do that to you.”

Sam smiled grimly. “I thought so. You won’t destroy me, will you, Cas?”

Cas shook his head. “No, I would never do that.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. But, you know, if you were to tell me about it, to destroy me, it would be no more than I deserved.” There was no sympathy for himself in his tone, no doubt or need for reassurance. Sam was stating a fact.

“You’re wrong,” Cas said. “You have paid for your mistakes. You may not remember, but the cage absolved you.”

Sam looked out across the junkyard. The sun was rising now, casting gleaming light on the metal of hoods and glass of windows. He shook his head. “There are some things beyond absolution, Cas. Things like I did.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “That’s not what I want to talk about, not really. I want to talk about what I did before the cage.”

Cas waited as he seemed to steel himself to talk. He wondered what Sam was going to say, and at the same time he wondered where this would lead. Was this his sign? Could God be working through the mortality of Sam to help Cas?

“You think you’re doing the right thing, working with Crowley, right? But you’re forgetting what I did and what happened after.”

“I have not forgotten. It is because I remember too well that I am doing this. I remember the apocalypse and what happened to all humanity. I know how much worse it would have been had you not made the sacrifice you did. I remember, Sam.” How could he even think he could forget?

Sam disregarded him. “You know, when I was with Ruby, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought Dean was wrong. I thought Hell had ruined him, stolen his nerve, and I had to do what he couldn’t. So, I went with Ruby, and I killed that poor girl and I drank all her blood and I became something more than human. I was prepared to do it, to kill Lilith, and then…”—he grimaced—“Dean called me. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, maybe to tell me it wasn’t too late, that we could fix things.”

Cas opened his mouth to speak. To tell him Dean had said all those things and more in the real message, before it had been wiped and replaced by the vitriol Sam had heard in his brother’s perfectly mimicked voice. He couldn’t bring himself to say it though. He couldn’t admit his part in that anymore than he could tell Sam it was him that had freed him from the panic room.

Sam shook his head as if shaking away the memory. “The point is, that was my last hope at doing the right thing, and it wasn’t there. I’m not blaming Dean,” he said hurriedly. “It was all down to me and my arrogance, but that was my last chance.” He locked eyes with Cas. “I want to be _your_ last chance. I know you spoke to Dean already, he was rambling about it earlier, but I also know Dean’s not the one you need to talk to. He’s never done this to the world. He never screwed up so completely that it took such a hefty price to fix it. I have. So, I’m asking you to listen to me, I’m begging you to, because we’re family and I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want to lose my brother.”

Cas was confused. “How will you lose Dean? I would never hurt him.”

“There’s more than one way to hurt someone, Cas. He’s been through so much, too much. I betrayed him and started the apocalypse. He had to deal with all the things I did when my soul was still in the pit. He lost Lisa and Ben. He has had this weight on his shoulders since he was four years old, and I think one more thing will be what breaks him. You can’t do this to him, Cas. If you go on the way you are, working with Crowley, doing whatever you’re doing, it _will_ end badly, and we’ll all pay, but none so much as Dean, and I really don’t think he can take one more knock right now.”

How was it that Sam Winchester knew him so well, could speak to him this earnestly and play on his exact fears and drag them into the bright light of day? If Cas had been asked, he would have said Dean was his greatest chance of averting him from his path, and yet Sam was here, saying all the right things. How was it that he knew? Could God have chosen _this_ human as a mouthpiece?

Cas turned away from Sam and closed his eyes, searching for the touch of God upon him. He had felt it before, long ago, when God was in His Heaven and all was good. There was nothing there. He opened his eyes again, and sighed. “I don’t know what to…” he started, and then he trailed off. The sun reached its peak and light flashed across Cas’s eyes and the junkyard. The grimy cars came to life with light for an instant, flashing across his vision. It was beautiful, a creation of man in God’s glorious freedom. How could these objects of ruin, victims of time, speak to him the way they did?

“Father?” he murmured.

“Cas, please trust me,” Sam said, and yet Cas thought there was another voice there, too. A voice he hadn’t heard in the longest time calling him by his true name rather than the human truncated version that he had grown to like as it was born of the bond he had with these humans.

“I will.” He wasn’t aware that he had spoken aloud until he heard Sam’s breath of relief. He didn’t try to take back the words though. It was all so clear to him now. He had received his sign, at last, and he knew what he had to do. He looked at Sam, seeing the relief and something indefinable in his eyes.

“Cas, man, I don’t know what to…” Sam started. He rubbed his hands across his face, smoothing away the lines.

“I will trust you, Sam,” he said. “But I don’t know what to do. How do I leave my path and still save?”

Sam sat down on the steps, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Okay, Dean’s filled me in on a little of this, but I don’t know the full story on account of being, you know, soulless at the time. What’s Raphael’s deal?”

Cas considered. He would have to do this carefully. He could not risk Sam’s wall with a repeated conversation that could trigger something, but he needed to tell him. “Raphael’s goal is to rule Heaven and recommence the apocalypse,” he said. “He is a traditionalist. He believes in the foretold battle.”

“He wants Lucifer and Michael fighting?”

“He does.”

“Okay…” Sam said slowly. “How would he do it though? How would he get them out?”

“I do not know,” Cas said. “I am a seraph. I do not know the secrets held only by the archangels. It is entirely possible that there is another way to open the cage other than the rings.”

“But then why didn’t they use it before?” Sam asked. “Why wait until I killed Lilith, breaking the seal? They could have had Lucifer out long ago.”

“Perhaps they could. But they would not have acted until recently. You and Dean were needed to be the vessels. That is how it was foretold to happen. Michael would not have wanted it to happen any other way.”

“But he used Adam,” Sam said. “He didn’t get Dean in the end.”

“True, I think that was an act of desperation. His desire to commence battle was too much for him. Also, archangels have a level of precognition. He could have seen Dean would never say yes to him.”

Sam looked down at his knees. “But I was always bound to say yes to Lucifer. I see.”

Cas wanted to say something to comfort Sam, but he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t be a lie. Sam _was_ always destined to say yes, for whatever reason. It _could_ have always been foretold that he would say yes in order to lock Lucifer away, but Cas did not know that for sure. It was also entirely possible that Sam changed fate’s path.

Sam shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done now. What does matter is what we do next. We need a way to neutralize Raphael. How are we going to do that without Crowley?”

Cas smiled slightly. “If I knew the answer to that, we would not be having this conversation. The only physical thing that can kill an archangel is another archangel’s blade. I don’t have one.”

“And yours can’t do it?” Sam asked.

“It would be akin to attempting to kill Raphael by jabbing him with a needle.”

Sam laughed softly. “Okay. That’s not going to work. We need something else.” He was silent for a long time, thinking Cas guessed. Then he sucked in a breath and slapped his hand down on his leg. “I got it. We can’t change what’s happening now, so what if we changed what happened then?”

Cas frowned. “How?”

“Send me back,” Sam said hurriedly. “Back to before it all went wrong.” He got to his feet and paced. “Dean broke the first seal, right? If he never did that, Lilith couldn’t have broken the rest, and I couldn’t have ended it all. I need to go back, to Cold Oak maybe, or before. I need to talk to Dean, stop him making that deal to save me. I stay dead and Dean never goes to Hell, and none of it can happen.”

Cas smiled sadly. “It’s not possible, Sam. You are forgetting Dean’s base drive. No matter what you said, what anyone said, he would make that deal for your life. He will exercise his free will to save you.”

Sam cursed. “But if I tell him…?”

“I don’t think it would make a difference. Dean could not leave you dead. Why do you think you have never succeeded before?” Cas asked. “Free will. Dean could not stop your mother making that deal. Neither of you could change your parents’ fate to have two sons that would become what you are now. The people you tried to influence had their own free will and that was more powerful than anything else God bestowed on humanity.”

“But if I told myself,” Sam said, “If we went back later, to before I killed Lilith?”

“Do you think you would listen? Do you think the possibility of it going wrong would overpower your need for revenge for your brother’s death? I don’t believe so. Now, it would, because you are armed with the knowledge of the price, but then…”—Cas shrugged—“you would do the same thing all over because your brother is worth it.”

Sam looked forlorn. “He is. He always is. He is worth a better world, though. I have to do this, Cas. We have to find a way.”

Cas heard movement inside the house. Dean was moving on the couch and a low moan was escaping him. “Dean is awake,” he said.

Sam nodded and closed his eyes. “I should go take care of him.”

“You should,” Cas agreed. “Sam, don’t give up hope. I will find a way to make this work. I will find a way to…” He trailed off.

“What, Cas?” Sam asked eagerly.

Cas smiled. “I think I know… But it would be difficult, perhaps even impossible… But it would be _your_ free will, no one else’s.”

“Not making much sense here, Cas,” Sam said impatiently.

“Tend to your brother. I need to think. I will return as soon as I can.”

Sam smiled widely and made for the house. He turned with his fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Cas, thanks, I mean it. Really. Thanks.”

“I am not sure it will work,” Cas said soberly. “Don’t get your hopes up yet.”

“No, no hopes,” Sam said, but Cas could tell it was a lie from the way his eyes gleamed.

Cas shook his head. He could have driven home the point, but he found he didn’t want to. Let Sam have his happiness for a while.

He watched Sam walk into the house and he heard his voice as he spoke softly to Dean, then he spread his wings at his back and took flight.

xXx

Dean was sitting on the couch, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands and blinking blearily. Bobby was seated beside him, looking alert if a little doubtful.

“So you just said the magic word and Cas gave up a plan he’d been working on for months, that _he_ believes the world rests on?” Dean asked.

“Well, when you say it like that…”

“He’s probably just yanking your chain,” Dean said tiredly, “keeping us off track so he and Crowley can work.”

Sam rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t think so. Like I said, he seemed like he meant it. And it looked like he had a plan at the end. I really think we have an answer to this whole crap-storm.”

“Well, I sure as hell hope so,” Bobby said. “’Cause I don’t know what else to do.”

Sam hadn’t told them about his plan to let nature take its course following Jake. That would only serve to piss them both off, and it would make it sound like he was ungrateful for what Dean did for him. It couldn’t be further from the truth. It was the most incredible thing anyone had ever done for him, even if he hated what it had cost. He hadn’t told them anything much other than Cas was off track with Crowley now and they maybe had a plan. He figured vague was the way to go. He wasn’t lying exactly; he was just… yeah, lying.

“More coffee?” he asked in an upbeat tone.

Dean nodded and held out his mug.

Bobby shook his head. “Nah, I figure we should keep the pot full for Mr. Alcohol Poisoning over there.”

Dean grumbled and Sam laughed as he handed Dean a fresh mug. Sam went to sit down at the table, but there was the sound of rushing wings and he lurched to his feet again and spun to take in the room.

“Cas?”

“I am here, Sam.” Cas appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and library. Despite his dour tone, he looked wired and happy.

“You worked it out, didn’t you?” Sam said, a thrum of excitement building in his chest.

“Yes. I have found the solution. I think we can make it work. It does not come without a cost, though.”

Sam nodded eagerly. “Okay. That’s okay. What do we have to do?”

“Hold up!” Dean said harshly. “What are you thinking, Cas? What are you getting my brother into?”

Cas looked at Dean as if seeing him for the first time. “I am saving us all.”

Sam watched the color build in Dean’s face and he knew the explosion was coming. He mentally counted down as Dean hands fisted and his eyes narrowed. “What the hell? You spend months, _months_ lying to us and hiding things and working with _Crowley,_ and you expect us to trust you now? You’re not doing it Cas. I don’t know what dumbass plan you’ve come up with this time, but you’re not doing it, and definitely not with my brother.”

Cas merely looked at him, and Sam said, “Dean, this is the only way apparently. We’ve got to do it.”

“It? We don’t even know what _it_ is yet, Sam. And besides, this is a plan cooked up between Mr. Amnesia and the angel that’s been screwing us over lately. What part of that screams ‘good idea’?”

Sam’s jaw tightened but he bit back the retort. Dean wasn’t thinking what he was saying, he was hung-over and stressed, that didn’t mean his cruel words had no affect though.

“What is the plan, Cas?” Bobby asked.

“We change the present by changing the past,” Cas said. “By diverting the path where it all went wrong, we can change what is happening now.”

Dean shook his head. “We’ve tried that before, with Mom and Dad. I couldn’t stop her going into that nursery and we couldn’t make her leave Dad. Michael put the nix on that.”

“That was different,” Cas said. “Then, you were working with others’ free will. This time Sam will change his own actions by being the Sam of the past.”

Dean shook his head. “So, you’re going to dump Sam in the past and hope no one notices the fact he’s aged years?” He gestured Sam up and down in evidence. Sam had spotted the same problem, but he assumed Cas had a solution, so he stayed silent.

“I will not _dump_ Sam’s body anywhere. It’s his soul that will be taken.”

Sam nodded eagerly, understanding. “So I will actually be there? That makes sense. I can change it all, but”—he looked pointedly at Dean—“how do I change what he does?”

“You don’t. You will be able to affect only your own actions. I will take you later than you suggested, to before Samhain was risen, and you will change your path from there. I believe that is the pinnacle moment, your exorcism of him, it strengthened your belief in yourself and it trained your abilities. Without that, you may not be strong enough to kill Lilith.”

“Whoa, crazy train, last stop,” Dean said, raising his hands. “You’re not taking Sam’s soul anywhere! ‘Like it had been flayed alive’, remember, Cas? What makes you think he can handle any of this?”

Sam frowned, not understanding. “Flayed…?”

“Your soul,” Dean explained. “When Cas got a feel of it, it was all messed up. The cage did that to you, Sam, and I’m not letting you yank it out again and go stuffing it anywhere. No. Not happening.”

Sam shook his head slowly. He knew Dean was acting in his best interests, that it was said with concern not malice, but it was time for Dean to realize he didn’t _let_ Sam do anything. He’d said so himself, before they’d gone to Detroit. Sam was a grown ass man and he could make his own choices.

“If this works, Sam’s soul will never be injured,” Cas said. “This present, this path we are on, will be averted. We will be living in a better world.”

Dean got to his feet and moved into Cas’s space. “What part of no don’t you understand?”

“The part where you are the one saying it,” Cas said calmly, unaffected by Dean’s air of poorly suppressed rage. “This is Sam’s choice. He is the one that gets to say no.”

Dean rounded on Sam. “Don’t you dare, Sam! I mean it. You don’t get to do this to yourself. You don’t get to make this choice.”

Sam felt a wave of remorse. He’d told Cas that one more thing might break Dean, and he thought perhaps this would be this thing. He would have liked to reassure Dean, to promise he wouldn’t do it, but what choice did he really have? This could save more than his brother, this could save the world. He didn’t want to hurt Dean, that was the last thing he wanted, but now there was a solution, he had to grab at it with both hands.

He clapped Dean on the shoulder and squeezed it for a moment and then let his hand drift back to his side. “I’m doing it.”

“Haven’t you listened to a damn thing I’ve said?” Dean asked in a growl.

“I’ve listened,” Sam said softly. “And I understand why you’re scared. That doesn’t change it though. I’m doing this.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “Why do you have to do it? I get that the world right now isn’t a picnic, but is it worth losing you to fix?”

Sam smiled at his surrogate father. “It’s worth it, Bobby. I can save the world. How can I say no to that?”

Bobby stared into his eyes, testing him, knowing him, and then he nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Dean said incredulously. “You’re kidding me right. You’re on board with this?”

“How is this worse than what’s already happened?” Bobby asked. “This isn’t the cage. This is a walk in the park compared to that. And like Sam said, it’s saving the world.”

Dean turned away, disgusted.

“Don’t you see?” Cas said, impatience making his voice harsh. “If this works, there will never be any cage for Sam. Lucifer will never rise and Sam will never have to return him to Hell.”

Dean opened his mouth, to argue Sam was sure, but he spoke over him. “I’m doing this Dean, whether you like it or not. I need your help though. If you can’t do that, I’ll understand, but I’d really appreciate it if you could.”

Dean scowled at him. “What do you need me for?”

“Well, I’m assuming something taken from the present to go to the past will have a price. “ He looked at Cas. “I’m losing my soul in the present, right? And I’ll go back to how I was before? I don’t remember any of that, but I’m guessing I’m going to need someone to take care of that on this end.”

“Yes,” Cas said. “You will be soulless again. I am not sure how time will readjust now while you are changing the past, but for the safety of others, you should be restrained.”

Dean looked sickened. “Soulless? Again?”

Sam disregarded him for the moment. He knew some of the things he had done while running around without his soul, but he was sure there was more that he didn’t know about, things that would make Dean look the way he did now, like he wanted to throw up.

He could have argued the point until the sun set, but it would change nothing. He would never persuade Dean of the rightness of doing this. Dean couldn’t let him, so he would have to take the choice out of his hands.

He girded himself and left the room, calling Cas after him. The angel followed, and after a moment and a muttered curse, he heard a chair scrape back across the linoleum that told him Bobby was following.

He went to the basement and walked unwillingly into the panic room. The cot was pushed against the wall, and Sam dragged it into the center of the room, away from anything that could help his escape.

“Lock me down,” he said to Bobby and then lie down on the thin mattress.

“Are you sure about this?” Bobby asked.

“Damn sure,” Sam said.

Bobby nodded regretfully and reached for the leather restraint at the foot of the bed. He wrapped it around Sam’s ankle, tightening it almost painfully. Sam relished the pain. The tighter the better, anything that would stop him getting away.

Cas strapped his wrist in place and then stepped away, unbuttoning his cuff and rolling his sleeve up. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yeah. Let’s do this,” Sam said, hoping they didn’t hear the quaver in his voice.

“Wait!” Dean shouted, and Sam heard the pounding of footsteps on the steps. He rushed into the room, red-faced and wild eyed. “Sam, I’m begging you, don’t do this!”

Sam shook his head sadly. “I’ve got no choice.” He turned away and closed his eyes. “Go on, Cas,” he said. “Get it done.”

“Wait!” Dean shouted again. “What about the wall?”

But Cas was already in motion. His hand was on Sam’s chest, forcing its way into him. There was unimaginable pain, excruciating agony, and then nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jenjoremy for the fabulous beta job. You’re a star.   
> This is the chapter where things with the Cas/Castiel things gets confusing — even for me. Castiel is the angel that belongs in the time Sam and Cas have just arrived in. He is Season 4 Castiel right down to the abnosome sex hair. Cas is the angel that has brought Sam back to change the future by changing the past. There will both appear in this chapter and editing it for me was confusing as hell, so I’m hoping it’s easier for you guys to keep track.

**_Chapter Two_ **

****

Time travel was draining. Even though he was now suffused with power, Cas felt the strain of it. He took a moment to adjust himself before stepping out of the motel bathroom he had arrived in. Sam was sitting at the table, working on his laptop, and he looked up, his brother’s name already on his lips. When he caught sight of Cas, he lurched to his feet and grabbed his gun from the nightstand.

“Who are you?” he shouted.

Cas shook his head tiredly. He hadn’t considered the logistics of dealing with a Sam who didn’t know him yet, a Sam who had no connection to him the way he did in the future.

“My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the lord.”

Sam’s grip on his gun faltered and he lowered it slightly. “You’re the one… Wow… Castiel…”

Cas smiled. This was the Sam he first met, the Sam who was awed by him. It took time for that awe to fade to mistrust, for Sam’s faith in the divine to be shaken. Cas missed it. Not for the obvious reason of the heady feeling of admiration but because he knew what it had cost Sam to lose it.

“You saved Dean,” Sam said.

“I did.”

“Thank you,” Sam breathed.

This was new. When Cas had met Sam before, he hadn’t thanked him, perhaps because Dean was there at the time. Cas found he had no response to that, so he stayed silent.

Sam shook his head slightly. “Dean’s not here at the moment. I can call him if you want. Or I can tell you where he is. I guess you can just… fly there, right. Wow.”

“I am not here for Dean. I am here for you.”

Sam frowned. “What did I do?”

Nothing yet, Cas thought, but he didn’t vocalize it. He reached into his coat and clasped his fingers around the soul burning there and pulled it out. It felt… wrong in his hand: raw, flayed, pained.

“What’s that?” Sam asked, looking wary.

“This? This is your soul.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “My what? How…? I mean why…? What the hell’s going on?” He took a step back, his eyes locked on the glowing mass.

Cas could have explained it all; he could have told Sam what he was doing and that he had his future self’s permission, but it would take too long. Dean would return sooner or later, and there were things to discuss before that happened.

He stepped forward, clutching the soul in one hand, and tried to look reassuring. “I promise you this is for the best,” he said.

“What’s for the best? What are you doing?” Sam held up his hands defensively.

Cas pressed two fingers to Sam’s forehead and he flopped back onto the bed. He landed hard and bounced twice before stilling.

Cas bowed over him and rested the soul against his chest. This would not be easy, as there was already a soul in place, and it wouldn’t have worked if this soul belonged to anyone but Sam, but they were two of the same. They would coexist peacefully.

Gripping the soul tightly, he pressed down, forcing it into Sam. Sam groaned through his unconsciousness, and then as Cas forced it in further, his voice rose to a shout. Cas clasped a hand over his mouth, stifling his cries as his other hand slipped back and out of Sam. He felt better having the soul away from him. It was wrong and damaged, and its touch made Cas recoil.

Sam’s eyes rolled beneath his lids, and Cas wondered what horrors were freeing themselves into his mind even now, what memories of Hell were leaking into his psyche. Whatever they were, they would not be there long. Cas touched his palm to Sam’s sweat damp forehead and set to work. He was not Death, he did not have the knowledge and power of the Horseman, but he managed. He took Sam’s strength and resilience and formed the blockade that was necessary for Sam’s survival, the wall that would protect Sam from himself.

When he was sure he had done the job to the best of his ability, he straightened and sighed. He had done all he could; the rest was down to Sam. Cas was confident that if any memories leaked through, Sam would be able to bear them. He had already exceeded expectations many times over, and Cas was pretty sure he could do it again.

He sat down on the bed beside Sam and waited. He could have woken him easily, but he felt it was better to allow him a little time first. Dean was not close yet; he could feel him across town, not moving. It was easier to operate now, being able to sense them again. He had become so accustomed to them being beyond his sight that he had forgotten how it felt, how much it settled his mind to find them at will.

After a few minutes, every second Cas ticked off in his mind, Sam stirred. He blinked blearily, sitting up before his eyes even focused, and he murmured his brother’s name.

“He is not here,” Cas said quietly.

Sam went from half asleep to alert in a split-second. His gaze snapped to Cas and he grinned inexplicably. “It worked.”

“To a fashion,” Cas said. “How do you feel? Are you remembering… Hell?”

Sam paused for a moment as if taking mental inventory and then shook his head. “No.”

Cas sighed with relief. It had worked. The wall he had created, novice that he was in comparison, had worked.

Sam grimaced suddenly. “Damn. Damn, damn, damn.”

“What’s wrong?”

Sam shook his head. “We forgot, _I_ forgot, about the demon blood.”

Cas shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t forgotten. He’d known Sam would be inserted into a body that was pulsing with the effects of the demon blood running through his veins. He had assumed Sam would have realized, too. He hadn’t thought to remind him, especially in front of Dean. He hadn’t believed it was possible for Dean to disapprove of the plan any more forcefully than he had already, but Dean had surpassed his expectations many times before, too.

“What am I going to do, Cas?” he said desperately. “I can’t go through that again!”

Cas knew he wasn’t speaking of the process of drinking the blood; he was thinking of the withdrawal. He didn’t know what to say to comfort him. As an angel, he had no power to ease that process for Sam. Only God had that power.

“You will make it through,” he reassured him. “You have done it twice before. You can do it once more.”

Sam shuddered and then seemed to steel himself. “Okay. I’ll deal with that when it’s time. Though I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell Dean…”

“You could try the truth. This object of your return is to change what happened. You weren’t honest with Dean in the past; you hid many things from him just as he did from you. This is your chance to rectify that. Tell him the truth, let him help.”

“Or let him beat me to a bloody pulp,” Sam muttered. “It’s not just that though. I know it sounds like an excuse, but I don’t want to put more on him than is already there. He’s been through so much already…”

“Not as much as he will go through if we fail now. He has not known and lost Lisa’s love yet. He has not seen Jo torn apart by a hellhound. He has not seen his brother—“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Sam said. “He’s been through enough, for sure, but he won’t go through all that now. I won’t fail him this time. I will tell him the truth about the demon blood, just not yet, okay?”

“Why not?” Cas asked.

“Because”—Sam looked around the motel room—“we’re in Ohio, right? The Samhain hunt? I need to deal with that before I go blowing his mind with how screwed up I am.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “You will tell him?”

“I will, but not till I’m ready. There’s… things that need to happen first.”

Sam was obviously hiding something. Cas considered pushing him, drawing the truth from him, but he didn’t. He reminded himself that this wasn’t the Sam of three years ago, not really. He may have the body and demon blood of that Sam, but he was a different man, one who had learned from his mistakes. He had earned Cas’s trust.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is going to be so complicated. What the hell am I supposed to tell Dean about how I’m here? He’s going to freak. He’ll have more questions… He’s going to be so pissed.”

This was something Cas had considered. There was too much danger in Dean knowing. Too much risk Uriel and Cas of this time would discover what he’d done. “Don’t tell him.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “What? What happened to being honest with him?”

Cas sighed. “Dean cannot know. We have to be constantly alert for Uriel and myself of this time. They cannot know what we are doing. When I am with you, it’s safe to discuss things, as I can sense when they are close, but without me here, they could be watching you and you’d never know. We have to keep this from them.”

Sam shook his head and smiled slightly. “Dean will know something’s wrong, I guarantee it. He’ll figure out that something’s wrong.”

“I don’t think he will. Remember how things were in this time. You were drinking demon blood and Dean had no idea. You were essentially a drug addict and Dean missed the signs. He was too preoccupied by the fact you were using your powers still. Play on that now. Let him believe that is all.”

Sam was silent for a long time. “You really think that will work?”

“I do. Dean does not need to know. It is not safe.”

“Okay,” Sam said slowly. “I won’t tell him yet, but, Cas, if something happens, if he needs to know, we’ll have to tell him.”

Cas nodded, satisfied.

The cell on the table rang, and Sam picked it up and glanced at the screen. His eyes widened. “Crap! What do I do?”

“I believe the custom is to answer,” Cas said with a smile.

“But it’s Dean!”

“Sam, how were you planning to handle this situation?” Cas asked. “You will have to see him sooner or later. How else will you change anything? Answer the phone.”

Sam groaned and pressed a button on the phone and held it to his ear. “Dean. Hey.”

 _“We got a problem, Sammy,”_ Dean’s voice came through the speaker, so familiar but so different. It was animated and freer than Cas had heard in a long time. _“Little Miss Cheerleader is a big fat liar.”_

“Yeah,” Sam said and then winced. “I mean, okay. What makes you think that?”

_“She acted all vague about Luke Wallace, but it turns out she’s the damn babysitter!”_

“She’s our witch,” Sam said.

_“You think? I was thinking more along the lines of her being a hot little liar.”_

Cas raised an eyebrow. Sam wasn’t exactly being sly so far. He had already revealed that he had more information than he should. Luckily, Dean was also a different Dean to the time they were coming from. He merely said, _“Okay, we’ll check her out. Might be right, Sammy. Nice work.”_

Sam grinned. “There’s a couple things I’ve got to do. Meet you back at the motel later.”

_“Hey, what are you doing? Where are you going? Sam—“_

Sam ended the call and looked into Cas’s doubtful eyes. “What?”

“Where _are_ you going, Sam?” he asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m going to work. We’ve got two witches to kill before sunset, and I need to get a jump start on it.” He rooted in his duffel and pulled out Ruby’s knife.

“They’re witches, Sam, not demons.” Cas said.

“It’s a knife, Cas. Trust me, this’ll work just fine.” He glanced out the window. “Don’t suppose you can give me a ride can you?”

“Where are we going?”

Sam considered for a moment and then nodded to himself. “The school. I’ll start with Don.”

xXx

It was surreal, wrong, to be this person again, feeling these things. The demon blood thrummed through him, making him feel wired and alert to the smallest sounds. It had only been a few days since he had met with Ruby and had his last dose, he remembered, but even without the memories he would know. He would feel it.

It also felt strange to be in _this_ body. He was slighter now than he was in his present. The muscles he didn’t remember developing–it had happened in the time he was soulless, the time he couldn’t remember–weren’t so prominent. Despite that, he felt strong, and it wasn’t from just the blood. He had noticed it almost as soon as he woke, but he hadn’t asked Cas about it. He was worried there was something wrong, and Cas would drag him back to his real time. He couldn’t let that happen. This was their chance, their time to make it right. This was the way he was going to avoid breaking Dean, his way to avoid the cage, his way to save the world. It had to work.

Sam gave Cas precise instructions to the teacher’s classroom. He needed to be lying in wait for Don without seeing others. He couldn’t have witnesses for what he was about to do. They came into the storeroom of the classroom, and Sam eased open the door a couple inches to peer into the room. Don was at the desk, scribbling in a manila folder.

“Are you ready for this?” Cas breathed.

Sam nodded and pulled out the knife. “Stay here,” he whispered.

He opened the door enough to slip through and gripped the knife a little tighter in his hand.

“I know you’re there,” Don said without looking up, his pen still scratching at the paper. “Come out and see me.”

Sam gritted his teeth and moved around the desk. His every muscle was tensed and his hands shook slightly.

Don looked up and smiled. “Agent… Lee I presume. Tracy told me about you. She liked you. I have been expecting you, though I didn’t expect you to come alone and openly armed.” He clucked his tongue. “Hunters. Not the greatest with forethought. Let’s talk.”

“I’m not here to talk,” Sam said. “I’m here to kill you.”

Don frowned and tilted his head to the side, the picture of confusion. “Why would you want to do that?”

Sam scoffed. “Maybe because you’re a witch and you’re planning to raise an end of the world level demon.”

“Clever. You clearly did your research. I’m impressed. And yet…” He eyed Sam up and down. “It’s not all research. You know too much, don’t you? I see it in your eyes. You don’t belong. You’re different.”

“Doesn’t matter what I am,” Sam said. “I am here to do a job.”

Don got to his feet and walked around the desk, calm and collected. “Then by all means, go ahead. Kill me.”

Sam stepped back on his heel and then lurched forward, his knife wielding hand outstretched and aimed at the witch’s throat. He was within an inch of flesh, poised to act, when Don waved a lazy hand through the air and pushed Sam back without making contact. Sam flew into the rack of masks by the door and they fell down with hollow thuds. The knife clattered to the floor.

“You should have brought your partner,” Don said.

“Maybe I should have.” Sam strained against the force holding him in place. His muscles burned with the effort, but he thought he felt some give, some promise of release. “It’s apparently not as easy to kill a dick-bag witch as I thought.”

Don snarled. “You have no idea who you’re talking to.”

“A centuries old witch with a hard-on for death and destruction? Yeah, I know. That’s why you’re going to die bloody.”

Don laughed harshly. “And you think you’re going to be the one to do it? You? A human?”

Sam strained a little harder, feeling the release of the force holding him. He stepped forward, smiling widely. “Maybe I’m not all the way human.”

Don’s eyes widened with shock as Sam stepped toward him, and he swept a hand through the air. Sam felt the force pressing in on him, but he wasn’t moved this time. He wasn’t immune the way he was to demons; he was just stronger. This was new. Last time he’d been in this situation, Tracy had knocked both him and Dean on their asses without breaking a sweat.

“What _are_ you?” Don asked.

Sam snapped out a fist and caught Don across the jaw. He reeled back, a hand clutching his face, and stumbled slightly. Sam kicked out and swept his legs from under him. He was only down a moment, but before he could get even halfway up again, Sam bowed over him. He put a foot on his chest to hold him in place and plunged the knife into Don’s throat, cutting through skin and flesh until he scraped bone. The witch rasped and gurgled for a moment, and then stilled. Blood pooled beneath him, and Sam moved back, careful to not step in it. He didn’t want to leave evidence behind.

He felt a presence at his back and he turned to see Cas standing behind him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?”

“You killed him,” Cas stated.

“Yeah… I thought that was the whole point of us coming here. Did you think I was here to talk to him, maybe make him see the error of his ways and persuade him to cut loose on the Samhain thing?”

“No, but I did not envisage you doing it so easily.”

Sam shook his head. “It wasn’t easy, Cas. None of this is. I just ended a life, and that sucks, but I ended it for a reason. He wasn’t human, and there was no way of reasoning with him before he acted. I am doing this, all of this, for Dean. He’s worth me stowing my conscience for a while.”

Cas nodded thoughtfully, but Sam thought he saw discomfort still in his eyes. Perhaps he was comparing him to the Sam who had been without his soul, the Sam that had let Dean be turned and had tried to kill Bobby.

“I’m still me, Cas,” he said defensively. “I’m just me with a mission.”

xXx

Cas offered to deal with Don’s body, to stash it somewhere out of sight so as not to put the police on alert until Sam and Dean were out of town. Sam automatically agreed, and it wasn’t until Cas had left him in an alley on Main Street that he wondered what Cas would do about the blood. An image of him rolling up his trenchcoat sleeves and scrubbing the floor came to him and he laughed to himself.

Knowing Dean was going to be curious, and probably pissed, about his errands, Sam stopped by a Burger Shack for a bag of grease and meat for his brother to devour. Maybe he’d get lucky and Dean would be distracted. He doubted it somehow. Distracted or not, Dean was going to know _something_ was up.

He walked back to the motel slowly, in no hurry to face Dean. He thought of all the challenges he and Cas were facing with what they were doing, Dean was the greatest. This was the acid test. If Dean realized, if he knew, Sam _would_ tell him the truth, but he’d prefer not to. Like Cas said, Dean had already been through enough. He didn’t need to know how bad things were going to end up if Sam failed.

The Impala was parked outside their room, and Sam saw the curtain twitch as someone tugged at it. Dean was in full on pissed mode then. He would be imitating a fifties housewife as soon as Sam got inside, hands on hips and strident demands of _‘Where have you been?’_

He braced himself and shouldered opened the door. “Hey. I brought…” He caught sight of the people in the room. Dean was standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest and a slightly uncomfortable expression; Castiel was by the bed, his eyes fixed on Sam, slightly narrowed; and Uriel stood by the window with his back to the room.

“Cas…tiel,” he said awkwardly. “Um…” He looked at Dean helplessly. Dean was watching him with a raised eyebrow. “You must be Castiel.”

Castiel nodded. “I am. And you are Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood.”

Sam had forgotten what a dick Castiel was in the beginning. Sure, he wasn’t a bag of laughs in the future, but he was family. There was a bond of brotherhood between him and Sam in that time. Sam had proved himself to be stronger than the demon blood, and Castiel had showed, by falling, that he was more than an automaton for orders.

Sam scowled at him. “Yeah. That’s me. Demon boy.”

Dean frowned at him. Sam guessed he was expecting his whole belief system to kick in and for him to be awed by the angels in the room—the way he had when they’d really met for the first time. That was before though. Sam now knew what dicks angels were, with one exception. Angels were the ones pretending to try and prevent seals from breaking when they were really providing the cheering section for the apocalypse. Castiel didn’t know that in this time though, so Sam had to make allowances. But Uriel… he was firmly on side of the end of the world. He was even now—or would be soon—killing other angels to do it. Sam wondered if there was some way to stop it, and then he wondered if he cared enough to bother.

“This is Uriel,” Dean said, his tone bitter as he gestured to the dark-skinned angel.

Uriel turned slowly, making the movement last forever. Sam wondered if he was attempting to intimidate Sam. It was a wasted effort if he was. Sam had faced plenty worse already. Uriel came to rest facing Sam and he looked him up and down as if assessing him. Sam straightened and stared back into his fathomless eyes without fear.

“You have ceased your extra-curricular activities,” Uriel stated.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes. My name is Sam and I haven’t exorcised a demon with my mind in sixty days. You going to give me a chip?”

Dean eyed him like he was crazy, and Sam thought maybe it was time to tone down the attitude. It was hard, because it was so tempting to bust their chops. They deserved it, Castiel included at the moment, for what they were going to do.

“You would be wise to speak to us with a little more respect,” Uriel said through his teeth.

Sam nodded slowly. “Sure. Okay. I’m sorry. So, what can we do for you?”

“The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?” Castiel asked intently.

“Why?” Dean asked,

“Dean, have you located the witch?”

Dean looked awkward and Sam stepped forward. “Yes. We’ve found one and killed it. There’s still one to track down though.”

Castiel and Uriel looked at him blankly and Dean looked stunned as he said, “We have?”

“ _I_ have,” Sam corrected. “And I have a rough idea of where we’ll find the second. We’ll get it done.”

“You are awfully confident for a mud monkey,” Uriel said. “How did you find the witch? Have you been tapping into those… powers again?”

Sam felt Dean’s eyes on him, suspicious, doubting, and he shook his head. “No. I did it all the old fashioned way with research and investigation. I _am_ a hunter.”

Dean clapped his hands together. “Awesome. In that case we’ll deal with the other witch and you guys can go play harps or something. We’re on it.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side and examined Sam carefully. “Are you certain you know who the witch is? Because there is more at stake here than you know.”

“I’m sure,” Sam said confidently. “There’s no need for anything dramatic.”

“Dramatic like leveling the town?” Uriel asked, a grim smile on his lips.

“What?” Dean goggled at Uriel.

“Yeah, dramatic like that,” Sam said. “We’ve got till midnight, right? The ritual has to be done by then. How’s about we call it eleven-thirty and if we don’t get it done, you can level whatever you like?”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asked. “Sammy, what the hell?”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam said. “We’re good.”

After a long moment in which Sam thought Castiel was maybe x-raying him with his eyes, he nodded. “Work fast,” he said somberly and then disappeared.

Uriel smiled slightly. “Eleven-thirty, Sam Winchester.”

Sam thought he saw a flash of dark wings against the wall in the second before Uriel took flight. He watched him go and then braced himself for Dean. He was going to have questions and doubts and possibly the ability to tell Sam wasn’t the right Sam with his eyes alone. Sam knew that was the real test here, not whether they could kill Samhain, but whether Sam could fool him.

Dean slapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, hard. “What the hell was that?”

Sam turned slowly, praying it was going to work, and smiled. “That was angels. Dicks, right?”

Dean smiled slightly. “Yeah, but I was thinking more about what the hell was the whole ‘we killed a witch and know where the other is’ thing. I think they mean it. Uriel would actually take out the town and hum a merry tune while doing it.”

“I did kill a witch already, Dean,” Sam said. “And I _do_ think I know where we’ll find the other.”

Dean was silent for a long time and then he said, again, “What the hell?”

Sam dropped the paper sack down onto the table and massaged his temples hard. All this subterfuge was giving him a headache. “I figured the bone was too charred to come from a normal fire. I was reading up on Tracy and saw she had issues at school with her art teacher. I connected the dots from heat to kiln to teacher and decided to go by and talk to him. He figured I’d already worked out what he was, and he tried to kill me. I got the jump on him.” He shrugged. “That’s one witch down.”

Dean was listening with his mouth slightly open. Sam wondered what he would come down on first, doubt about Sam’s story or anger that he’d taken out a witch without backup. “You killed a witch. Alone?”

So it was anger. That was easier to deal with. “I’m not a child, Dean. I can hunt alone.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to. Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Because I thought we were on a tight schedule and we should get ahead where we could. Besides, I didn’t know I was going to need to kill anyone. I thought I was just doing recon.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay then. I guess it’s good. Just… next time wait for me, okay?”

Sam didn’t want to lie to Dean more than he already was, so he nodded vaguely and said, “So, that was Castiel.”

“Yeah, and _Uriel_ apparently.” Disgust dripped from his tone. “A pair of real dicks.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said without thinking. “Cas isn’t so bad.”

“Cas?” Dean said. “First off, that’s creepy, and second, he called you the boy with the demon blood. You telling me that’s not so bad?”

“Yeah, but…”—Sam rubbed the back of his neck—“I guess he seemed good in comparison to the other asshole. Anyway, we need to gear up and get to Tracy.”

“She _is_ the witch? You’re sure?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, uh, the teacher was in a chatty mood, I guess. He said he was working with another, and I figured it must be her. We need to check his address and go by there. If she’s summoning, I’m guessing that’s where it’s happening.”

Dean stared at him as if trying to see something that wasn’t there, black eyes maybe, any sign Sam wasn’t Sam. “You worked all this out on your own?” he asked. “No… extra help?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, maybe Ruby or your psychic whatever?”

“It’s all me, Dean,” Sam said.

“Okay, fine. Let’s hope you’re right about Tracy. I don’t want to risk the town on a hunch. And I don’t want to take out a schoolgirl if we’re wrong.”

“Don’t worry,” Sam said. “I’ll make sure we’re right before we act.”

He made to turn away, to grab the weapons he would need, but Dean caught his arm and held him in place. “You can tell me if there’s something up; you know that, right?”

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, knowing what it had cost Dean to say it, given his aversion to scenes like this, and what he must be thinking. “I know. I will if I need to.”

“Good… That’s… good.”

xXx

There was light burning in the basement window, backing up Sam’s hunch that Tracy would try the spell alone. She had been the intended sacrifice last time, and Sam wondered if she was tied up down there this time, too. It would make things a lot easier if she was, but he didn’t hold out much hope. He had been running through the plan in his head on the drive over to the house. It was a blood sacrifice that was needed to raise Samhain, so he couldn’t let anyone bleed. Simple enough in theory, but not so easy to explain to Dean.

“How are we supposed to take her out without blood? She’s a witch, Sam!”

“We’ll find another way,” Sam said. “Just keep the bullets in your gun.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, just as long as you remember we’re banking a whole town’s survival on this. You’re not forgetting that are you, Sammy?”

Sam grabbed his arm and whirled him around. “I’m not forgetting anything. I know what I’m doing, okay? Just have a little faith.”

Dean looked like he had an insult on his tongue, but he swallowed it and nodded dourly. “Faith. Okay.”

Sam made quick work of the lock on the back door and crept inside. He remembered the door to the basement leading off of the kitchen, but made a show of checking the other door—the pantry—before he opened the right one. He was hoping small mistakes would subside Dean’s suspicions somewhat.

As soon as he had the door open, he heard the voice chanting. He cursed loudly and pounded down the steps, hoping to distract her long enough to get there before she finished the spell. He came into the room with his gun raised, an empty threat, but she wouldn’t know that. The boy from the apple bobbing crime scene was there, strung up by his hands, the rope attached to a hook in the ceiling. He was gagged, but he was trying to talk, to shout. Tracy had the silver bowl in her hands and she was smiling widely.

“Agents,” she said, sounding delighted. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Put the bowl down,” Sam growled.

“I don’t think so.” She picked up a long, antique looking knife from the table and rested it against the boy’s throat. His muffled words became more desperate and his eyes widened.

“I’m guessing you’re the reason Don has missed the show,” she said. “I’d say I’m sorry, but it would be a lie. I want all the glory, you see. I will raise our master and I will receive his gratitude.” She licked her lips. “All that gratitude.”

Dean shifted at his side and Sam knew he was just as tormented as Sam was. They could strike now, maybe killing the witch, but maybe completing the spell for her instead. He shook his head slightly.

“Or maybe he’ll kill you for spending the last six centuries slutting around,” Sam said. “Think of that?”

She laughed. “He will understand. I have always been faithful to him in my heart. Now, time’s running out. There are things I need to do.” She looked at the boy hanging from the ceiling. “Now, Justin, aren’t you sorry you didn’t pick me?”

The boy nodded vigorously.

“I bet if you had a chance to do things different, you’d treat me a lot better. Shame really that you’re not going to get that chance.” She pressed the tip of the blade against his throat and thrust it in, drawing a thick stream of blood that she caught in the bowl.

Sam stepped forward, not sure of what he was going to do, but knowing he had to act fast. Without even looking at him, Tracy muttered something in Latin and Sam was swept off his feet. He collided with Dean and they were both driven to the ground. He felt like his guts were being twisted into knots, and he guessed from Dean’s groans he was suffering the same. He remembered this pain, but it did not incapacitate him the way it had last time. He pushed it down, gritted his teeth, and rolled onto his side. The witch wasn’t pinning him now, either because she couldn’t or because she was expecting the pain to hold him, and he was able to get his legs under him and stand.

Tracy turned away from the now dead boy hanging from the ceiling, cupping the bowl of blood in her hands. She held it up in front of her and began to chant. Sam moved fast, striding across the room and stepping up behind her. He gripped her chin and forced her head to the side with a swift, strong twist. There was a foul snapping sound and she dropped boneless to the floor. The blood from the bowl splashed across the floor.

Sam waited with bated breath, watching for the smoke to come and the demon to rise. Had he been too late? Had it worked? Dean got to his feet and walked forward slowly, but Sam didn’t look up. He stood for a full minute before breathing a sigh of relief as the smoke failed to appear. Only then did he look at Dean whose expression was frozen with shock.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam said. “It was in time. The demon’s not coming.”

Dean nodded and his expression shifted from shock into relief. “Good,” he said quietly.

Sam looked around the room, taking in the corpse hanging from the ceiling, the one on the floor and the bloody bowl resting beside her. Dean was staring at it, too, and for a moment, it seemed to Sam they were just taking in the relief, and then Dean punched his arm and shouted, “What the hell _was_ that?”

Sam looked into his eyes, seeing fear, anger and something indefinable. “That? That was me doing my job.”

xXx

As Dean and Sam reached the Impala and sped off down the street, two angels appeared in the basement of Don Harding’s house. On the floor was a dead witch, sprawled in the middle of a pool of congealing blood. Hanging from the ceiling was a teenage male, little more than a child, with a slit throat and still open eyes even though he was dead.

The taller of the two, dark skinned and heavyset, walked forward and examined the scene. He toed the corpse of the witch, rolling her over to her back. Her head flopped grotesquely, but neither angel reacted to the sight. They had seen much worse many times before.

“Her neck was snapped,” Uriel said in his deep baritone.

Castiel nodded. “I wonder which one of them did it.”

Uriel smiled grimly. “There is no question, surely. The Righteous Man can be the only one. Unless you think the abomination overcame his nature to do some good for a change.”

“He has before,” Castiel said, no inflection in his tone.

“Always under the tutelage of the brother. Have you forgotten the slew of bodies he left behind during his… training with that demon?”

Castiel nodded, conceding the point. “He said he killed the first witch though. That was without his brother. Do _you_ forget Dean’s reaction? He knew nothing of it.”

“Perhaps he didn’t. He is distracted at the moment by the maelstrom of guilt and emotion the mud monkeys suffer.” Uriel chuckled. “The Righteous Man is broken.”

“I do not think so. I do not deny that he is distracted, but he still succeeded here where we believed he would fail. It was right to allow him this command. He proved himself. The seal was saved.”

“I suppose,” Uriel said grudgingly.

“What really troubles you, brother?” Castiel asked. “Were you hoping for him to fail? Is your distaste for humanity so great that you would annihilate a town with relish?”

Uriel stared into Castiel’s eyes. “I would have done it because it was ordered. I serve the will of Heaven.”

That was not the whole truth. Castiel and Uriel had worked together for too long for either to fool the other, but the pretence was a necessary part of their relationship.

“They saved the seal,” Castiel said, changing the subject. “We should report.”

Uriel straightened and thrust his chest out. “I will go. I am already sick of this planet. The stench of humanity is rife all over.”

Castiel nodded. “Very well. I will ensure the safety of The Winchesters and then I will follow.”

“The _Winchester,_ Castiel. There is only one that matters.”

“And if we are relying on his assistance to stop the seals from breaking, we need them both,” Castiel said. “Dean will be no good to us if he is even more distracted.”

Uriel shook his head, disgusted. “Humans…”

“Yes, humans.”

Uriel cast the witch’s corpse one last look of loathing and then left. Castiel waited a moment longer, staring at the body of the boy suspended from the ceiling with an indefinable expression and then he too disappeared.

The room was quiet for a moment, and then an angel out of his time stepped from his corner and unshielded himself. Cas had watched the scene develop between the Winchesters and the witch, silent and unseen, and he’d rejoiced internally when the witch had been killed before the ritual could be completed. Sam had done it. Their plan was working.

He had chosen this time and place for their return because he believed the exorcism of Samhain had empowered Sam, had proved his abilities, had shown him there was real good to be done with his powers. He wondered if the things they had changed already would be enough to change the future. He doubted it. Lilith’s death was the result of a confluence of events, the raising of Samhain only a part of it.

He moved across the room to the boy suspended from the ceiling. He looked at his pale, young face and sighed. It was not the first life lost to the war, nor would it be the last, but Cas still felt regret for his death. He reached up a hand and run it across the boy’s face, closing his wide staring eyes. “I am sorry,” he said softly, knowing he could not be heard but feeling better for having said it. That done, he turned away from the bodies and took flight again.

He came to rest in a motel room in the center of the small town. Sam was sitting on the edge of a bed with a faded purple bedspread that clashed with the green wallpaper. His hand was rubbing his forehead as if attempting to wipe away the lines that had made their home in his brow. Dean was standing opposite him with his half full duffel held in one fisted hand and a crumpled shirt in his other. He was tense and angry, and with his next words, Cas understood that he had arrived in the midst of a heated discussion.

“I saw you snap that girl’s neck, Sam!”

“It wasn’t a girl,” Sam said. “It just looked like one. And in case you forgot, it worked. She didn’t finish the spell.”

“She didn’t,” Dean conceded. “But, Sam, it was cold.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dean. I didn’t enjoy it if that’s what you’re thinking, but it was a choice between killing her the way I did or letting the angels destroy the whole town. I did what I had to do.”

Dean dropped his duffel and shirt and thumped down on the bed, his hands fisted so hard they were shaking slightly. “I get that, I do, and I’m glad it worked, but…”

“But what?” Sam asked.

“I’m worried,” Dean admitted. “You’re pulling demons with your mind. You’re snapping necks and you’re sassing angels. You’re not the brother I left behind.”

Cas thought Sam would have been hurt by Dean’s words had he been the right Sam, the Sam that strove to be what his brother wanted and needed from him. As it was, Sam wasn’t the same person Dean had left months ago when his deal came due. This was the Sam who had lived through an apocalypse he had started; this was the man who spent almost two unremembered centuries in the cage with Michael and Lucifer, two centuries that had left eternal damage on his soul. This Sam needed a wall in his mind just to function.

“I’m not,” Sam admitted, and Cas heard the strain in his tone. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’m not using my powers anymore, in case you forgot, and I just saved a town. Besides, are you the same man that the hellhounds came for?”

Dean stared into his eyes, and Cas wondered if this was the opening Dean needed to tell Sam about Hell, about what he had suffered there and what he had done. It wasn’t. He merely shook his head and said, “It’s different, Sam.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, it’s different for me, too. That’s the point.” He sighed and got to his feet. “I’ll get the car packed up. We’ll go back to Bobby’s for a while. I want to fill him in on this hunt and the angels’ latest.”

“And the phone’s not good enough?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam shook his head. “No. It’s not.”

He swung his duffel over his shoulder and made for the door. Dean watched him go with a frown and then he returned his attention to packing.

Cas followed Sam outside and stood just by the door, out of sight of the motel window. He unshielded himself so Sam could see, and then waited as Sam opened the trunk and dropped his duffel inside. When Sam looked up and saw him, Cas thought he saw fear flicker across his eyes.

“It’s me,” he said, assuming Sam was confused about which Cas he was dealing with.

Sam nodded, relief in his eyes. He came to stand beside Cas, leaning against the wall.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Sam.”

“So,” Sam said laconically, “I met you for the first time today. You were a real dick.”

Cas smiled slightly. “I was.”

“And I killed two witches.”

“You did.”

Sam looked up hopefully. “You think it was enough?”

“To stop it all?” Cas asked. “No. I don’t think so. Not yet.”

Sam’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Okay.”

Cas saw his disappointment and he sighed. “You did stop a seal breaking today, Sam, and you saved a town from annihilation. You should be very happy.”

Sam glanced back at the door. “I know, and I am, but I just wish Dean wasn’t taking it like… this.”

Cas considered him, seeing the shadow in his eyes that was his unremembered hell. Dean shared the same shadow. It was what happened when man suffered. “This will not be the last time you will be forced to show Dean this side of yourself.”

Sam raked a hand through his hair. “I know, I get it, but I wish it was. The way he’s looking at me now, it reminds me of what it was like after Lucifer rose.”

“It’s different, Sam. It will be a difficult journey for you to travel, but if we are successful, the world will be saved and your brother will have no reason to look at you like that ever again. There will be no loss of trust between you.”

“I hope so,” Sam said quietly. “Though…”

“What?”

Sam fixed his gaze on the parking lot. “I can’t help but think we are going to succeed but that I’ll lose Dean anyway. I’m going to have to do dark things to stop this, and that’s going to come with a price. Saving the world will lose me as much as almost destroying it will.” He sighed heavily. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. It will be worth it.”

“Yes,” Cas said somberly. “It will.”


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter Three_ **

 

Time travel was not a precise art. A lot of it came down to sheer luck, rather like throwing a dart at a board with one eye closed and fingers taped together. Cas knew that, so he was pleased when he managed to get Sam to the exact time and place he wanted in the past. He should have known that his luck wouldn’t repeat when he returned to his time. It was almost a week after he and Sam had left that he arrived in Bobby Singer’s house in his own time. He came to rest in the library and pulled his wings in close to him as he looked around.

It was a mark of how desensitized to Cas’s comings and goings Bobby was that he didn’t slop coffee down himself at his sudden reappearance. He merely set the mug down carefully between the masses of books on the desk and took a deep steadying breath. “Cas,” he said in a heavy tone. “Tell me you’ve got Sam tucked in the pocket of that coat and I’ll kiss you.”

Cas’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Things are not going well?”

Bobby shook his head and sighed. “Things are about how you’d expect them to be given we’ve got a soulless dick in the basement and we’ve been dealing with him and his crap for a week.”

“I do not have Sam. He is still in place.”

Bobby looked disappointed. “Balls. I guess I knew that it would take a while coming in, but it don’t make it no easier now.”

“No, I don’t imagine it would.”

Cas looked around the room, taking in the familiar faded wallpaper and surfaces strewn with books and papers. There were signs of Dean around, his car keys on a side table and his jacket slung over the back of a chair, but the man himself was nowhere in sight.

Seeing his gaze sweeping the room, Bobby said, “Dean’s downstairs with… him.”

Cas made for the stairs, but Bobby didn’t follow. He looked back over his shoulder. “Are you not coming?”

“Coming down there with the dick who wants nothing more than to end my life so he doesn’t get his soul popped back in? Nah, I think I’ll stay up here.”

“He has made an attempt on your life?” Cas asked.

“No. Not yet anyway, but he hasn’t changed his mind. I can see it in his eyes. He’s just as damned determined as he was last time. It’s the way he looks at me.”

Bobby wasn’t someone who jumped at shadows. Cas trusted his judgment. If Bobby believed his life was at risk, Cas agreed with him. He would need to put more protection in place before he left again, to strengthen the defenses around Bobby and Dean. There was nothing to be gained by Sam killing Dean, but perhaps he would do it anyway in the course of his escape. It was not worth the risk.

He made his way out to the hall and through the door that led to the basement. His footsteps were heavy on the wooden steps and as he plodded towards the panic room. He had no fear of Sam, soulless or not, but he had once threatened Cas’s life and that didn’t endear him to Cas’s heart. It was more than that though. Sam without his soul was a disgrace. He fought and killed without mercy to achieve his ends, and he had no emotional connections or reactions. Sam, who usually felt everything so openly and clearly, cared nothing for anyone. It was just wrong to look at him now that he was not pretending to be his true self. Cas didn’t know how Dean had been able to bear it for so long, though he supposed for Dean there was no choice. It was still his brother in some form, and that meant something to Winchesters.

Dean heard him coming. He was waiting at the panic room door. His eyes were ringed by dark shadows and tight with tension. They lightened slightly when he saw Cas, and a hopeful smile hovered on his lips. “Did you bring him back?”

“I’m afraid not. There are still things for him to do before I can return him.”

The small smile faded and Dean’s jaw gritted. “But he’s okay, right?”

“Yes, he is fine. We should talk.” Cas glanced past Dean into the room to see Sam. He was lying on the cot, his wrists and ankles shackled with leather restraints. His head was tilted to the side and his expressive eyes bored into Cas. “And Bobby should be present.”

Dean cast a glance back into the panic room at his tethered brother. “Yeah, he should.” He still looked reluctant though.

“I will ensure he cannot escape. Does Bobby possess chains of some sort?”

Dean looked conflicted for a moment and then he nodded. “Yeah, in here.” He went back into the panic room and moved to a corner. Cas followed him in and saw a loop of thick iron chains hanging from a hook on the wall. There was also rope and wire, but Cas thought the chains would be better. They were not only the strongest, but they also looked more reassuring for Dean and more intimidating for Sam.

Dean hefted them from the hook and brought them over to Cas. Sam watched it all through narrowed eyes.

“Chains?” Sam said when Cas took them from Dean and moved toward him. “You must really think I’m a threat. That’s quite a compliment coming from an angel.”

“We are not protecting others from you,” Cas lied. “We are protecting you from yourself.”

“Think I’m going to hurt myself? The chains are a little redundant then, don’t you think? What with you here to fix all my aches and pains and sucking chest wounds.”

“Not physically,” Cas said, “but Sam, the real Sam, would not want us to risk it.”

Sam tutted and looked back to the ceiling. “Fine. Do what you need to do.”

Cas wound the chains around his chest and looped them under the cot. He didn’t make them too tight, he wanted Sam to be able to breathe, but he made sure the weight of them could be felt. Dean watched it all in silence from his place ten feet away. When Cas held out his hand, Dean moved slowly towards him and placed a heavy padlock into his hand. Cas threaded it between the links and snapped it closed.

Sam shifted slightly, making the chains clink together, and then rested his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes as if about to sleep impossible sleep. “Comfy.”

Cas caught Dean’s eye and they nodded in unison. Dean could leave now, comforted that Sam was safe, and Cas could assure the real Sam that he was restrained when he returned to him.

They walked from the room together, up the steps and into the library. Bobby was at the counter when they entered the kitchen area, pouring two mugs of dark coffee. He handed one to Dean who murmured his thanks, then they both turned to Cas.

“How’s he doing?” Bobby asked.

“We have restrained him suitably for now and I will ensure there is support for you both before I leave again,” Cas said.

Bobby shook his head. “I mean how’s _our_ Sam doing? The one you shoved back a few years.”

“Oh. He is doing well under the circumstances.”

“The wall?” Dean prompted.

“Is in place again. I was able to create it without too much difficulty. Sam is protected from his hell.”

Dean looked away from them for a moment and ran a hand over his face, his relief obvious. “Good. That’s…good.” When he turned back, his expression had hardened into anger. Cas was taken aback by the change, but when Dean spoke again, he thought he should have expected it. “Where the hell have you been?”

“In 2008,” Cas said simply, “with Sam.”

“A week, Cas! You’ve had us going crazy with worry, leaving us with that thing in the basement. You couldn’t have popped back to let us know he was okay?”

Cas wondered if it was worth explaining the mechanics of time travel to them, to attempt to make them understand the sheer impossibility of aiming yourself at an exact moment in ebbing and changing time, but he decided it wasn’t worth the effort. This wasn’t all about his delayed return. This was Dean venting his anger at an impossible situation, and he had earned his release. “I apologize. I was delayed.”

Dean shook his head slowly, seeming beyond words. Bobby spoke up. “Delayed by what?”

“Samhain. Sam and Dean have been facing him in that time and I needed to stay close to ensure their protection. Sam was successful. The witches were killed before the ritual could be completed, though it was merely moments away from happening. Samhain never rose.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his tone calmer now. “I figured. It’s confusing though. I remember both times, one feels more real than the other. Sam snapping that girl’s neck feels real, and the other feels kinda like a dream. You’re saying he really did it, though? He killed her?”

“He saved a seal,” Cas said pointedly. “The witch’s death was a part of that.” He recognized the similarities in Dean’s two reactions, one of this time and one of the past. He wondered if Sam was right, that changing things the way he did was going to change things between him and his brother. It made sense in a way, but he still resented it. Though _this_ Dean knew the stakes and that Sam had no choice, he still seemed to disapprove of what Sam did.

“But it’s not changed everything, has it?” Bobby asked. “I mean, that’s the only changed memory I have, too. I still remember the apocalypse and everything that led up to it—Sam doing what he did. That’s not changed.”

“Not enough has changed yet to avert the path.”

“But you said that was the pinnacle moment or whatever,” Dean said in a low tone. “Why wasn’t that enough?”

“I think because of the demon blood,” Cas said apologetically.

Dean sucked in a harsh breath. “Dammit. He’s all juiced up in that time.”

Cas nodded. “Yes. Sam, in that time, is drinking demon blood and has only just ceased using his powers. He did not use them against Samhain, there was no need, but the blood lingers. I do not know if he continued to consume it even after he stopped using them last time.”

“He was still acting shady, so he might have been,” Dean said and then cursed. “God, he’s going to have to go through withdrawal again, isn’t he?”

“I am afraid so. He is aware of it. We have discussed it, and he wasn’t…” Cas wondered how to frame his words, how to tell them of the look of sheer fear in Sam’s eyes and the quaver in his voice when he realized he would have to suffer through that again. “”He wasn’t happy,” he said lamely.

“No, I bet he wasn’t,” Bobby said in a heavy tone. “Still, we know he can do it. He did it twice and he survived. He can do it one more time.”

Dean didn’t seem comforted by Bobby’s assertions. Cas thought he was remembering how it had felt for him to listen to his brother screaming for help through that heavy iron door. He remembered, too, how he and Dean had stood outside the panic room, listening to Sam’s suffering, unable to do a thing about it. It had not been the easiest thing he had ever done.

“He _can_ do it,” Bobby said again, seeming to be reassuring himself as much as Dean.

“So, other than the Hell wall and the demon blood, how’s he doing?” Dean asked after the silence had become uncomfortable.

“He is adjusting better than I thought he would,” Cas said then smiled. “Do you remember the first time Uriel and I met Sam?”

Dean grinned. “That really happened, too?”

Cas returned his smile. “Yes. Uriel especially was unhappy.”

“What happened?” Bobby asked.

Dean turned to him, amusement in his eyes. “He sassed the crap out of them. It was brilliant. Of course, at the time I was worried that Uriel would smite him out of sheer annoyance, but looking back, it was one of Sammy’s more awesome moments.” He eyed Cas. “I guess you weren’t too pleased about it _then_ either, were you?”

“No,” Cas said. “I wasn’t. I see the humor in the situation now though. It is strange for me to see that side of myself again. It makes me more ashamed of how I behaved. Despite what I once told you, I was a hammer.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dean said, the humor still within him. “You had the whole stick-up-the-ass thing going on. Once you pulled that out, you were good.”

Cas was unsure of the correct response to that, so he merely said, “Thank you.”

“So,” Bobby said, “what’s next? In that time, I mean. How do we stop the apocalypse and get Sam off the blood without breaking the damn wall?”

“I don’t know,” Cas admitted; he locked eyes with Dean who looked like he was concentrating hard.

“Okay…” he said slowly. “After Samhain we took the Concrete hunt—the cursed penny in the fountain,” he added, seeing Bobby’s confusion. “That should be an easy one for him, right? All he’s got to do is persuade that Wes guy to pull the coin and we’re golden. Hell, if he gets there in time, he could even do it before all the wishes start piling up. There’s nothing there that would put a strain on the wall, is there?”

Cas shook his head. “Nothing I can think of, but I admit I don’t know enough about the wall to know what kind of strain it can withstand.”

“Sam’s strong,” Bobby said. “And he’s got the blood in him at the moment. As much as I hated it, hate it still, it does power Sam up. I think he’ll be good a while longer at least.”

Cas could tell Dean was trying to accept Bobby’s words as comfort, but he wasn’t entirely succeeding. He wished there was something he could say, some knowledge he could impart that would reassure them both. The problem was that he didn’t know what was going to happen. He could only see as much as was happening at the time.

“I should go,” he said regretfully.

“Yeah, of course,” Dean said. “Get back to him. He needs you right now.”

Cas nodded, though he was thinking of the other place he needed to go before he could return to Sam. There was a pretence he must maintain to keep Crowley from suspecting his defection. “There is something I want to do first,” he said. “Dean, I assume the reason for your obvious exhaustion is in the basement.”

Dean shrugged. “Who’s exhausted?”

“You are,” Bobby said firmly. “Keeping watch on a guy who don’t sleep is taking you to the mat. What are you thinking, Cas?”

“I was thinking I could call in assistance for you. Would you be averse to an angel’s presence?”

Dean opened his mouth, possibly to object, but Bobby spoke over him. “No. Whatever you’ve got so Dean can get a decent night’s sleep works for me.”

“In that case would you please pray to Balthazar?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Awesome. Hugh Heffner is our backup.”

Bobby smiled and raised his eyes heavenward. “Balthazar, you mind coming down for a minute? We got Cas here and he needs a chat.”

They waited for a moment before there was the sound of rushing wings and Balthazar appeared. “Gentlemen,” he said brightly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Balthazar,” Cas said, pleased to see his old friend. “Would you be adverse to staying here for a while as additional protection for Dean and Bobby?”

“Little old me?” Balthazar asked. “Protection from what may I ask?”

“Sam. He is without his soul again. He might attempt to flee or…”

“He might try to kill me,” Bobby said. “Again.”

Something indefinable flickered across Balthazar’s face for a moment before he schooled his features into a bright smile. “If that is what you need, I am happy to assist. There are things I require, of course: a flow of Krug and canapés for example.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Sure, let me just check the cellar. You can make do with coffee, whiskey and donuts like the rest of us.”

Balthazar sighed heavily. “The things I do for you, Cas. Fine, I will sign up for babysitting duty, but for Father’s sake, don’t keep me here long. There’s only so much Old Spice I can inhale before I am forced to smite myself.”

“Thank you,” Cas said sincerely. “I will return as soon as possible.”

“Oh, and Cassie,” Balthazar drawled, “I would be remiss if I didn’t ask where exactly Sam’s soul is if it’s not here.”

Cas caught Dean’s eye and saw his slight shake of the head. “It is somewhere safe,” he said, before spreading his wings at his back and taking flight.

xXx

Crowley was sitting on the chair usually used for the alpha’s interrogations with an ankle resting on his knee and a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked perfectly at ease, as if he couldn’t smell the stench of Eve’s rotting corpse on the table and the spilled blood in the room.

“Castiel,” he said lazily, “I was wondering when you’d show your face again.”

For a moment, Cas was afraid that Crowley had discovered his defection, but then the King of Hell smiled and Cas’s worries calmed somewhat.

Crowley inhaled deeply and then sighed. “So, I can tell from the stench of Old Spice and even older books that you’ve been visiting Bobby Singer’s humble abode. What, pray tell, were you doing there?”

“I was seeking assistance,” he lied.

“Really? You were seeking assistance from the menaces who killed our best hope at getting Purgatory open?” He pointed at Eve’s corpse. “Or were you perhaps attempting to repair the bromance between you and your favorite humans?”

Cas locked eyes with Crowley, brazening out his lie. “I thought perhaps if I could persuade Dean and Sam to join with us, we would have a better chance at succeeding. They have proven themselves more than capable in the past.”

“That they have,” Crowley agreed. “Unfortunately, they have also proven themselves to be epic pains in the ass.” He clucked his tongue. “Last time we spoke, you seemed to think we were beyond making nice with them. What changed?”

“I thought, with time, they would have changed their stance.” Cas looked into his eyes. “They haven’t.”

Crowley massaged his temples with one hand. “And let me guess, you’re all sad and misunderstood about it? Really, Cas, this is beyond their stunted brains to understand. They just can’t see the stakes here. They think because they beat Lucifer once, they can do it again. They aren’t worried about Raphael popping open the cage because they think they can handle what comes after. Stunted.”

Cas’s jaw tightened at the reminders of Raphael and what he was fighting for. If it worked, if Sam was successful, this conversation would never be necessary, but the chance it would fail was heavy within him. He could do it all, risk Sam the way he was, and still end up in this position. What would he do then? He could not allow Crowley to gain even one soul, but the only alternative was to take them all himself. What would that do to him? Would it even be enough?

”What’s with the constipated face?” Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Cas inhaled deeply and then sighed, his nose wrinkling at the stench of the room. “I am just thinking of Raphael.”

Crowley stood and walked toward Cas. He rested a hand on his shoulder. Cas stiffened at the demon’s touch. “Dear me. You’re all in knots, Cas. You need a massage. I can suggest a very talented demon if you’re willing.”

Cas stepped back, away from Crowley’s touch. “No, thank you.” He would not let an abomination touch him if he could avoid it.

“Let me get this straight. You’re not too good to saddle up with the King of Hell but you’re too good to take a little relief from another demon?”

“Yes.”

Crowley laughed. “That’s some twisted morals you got there, Cas.”

“I am working with you because I have no choice. If there was any other way, I would take it.”

Crowley shrugged. “Just as long as you _are_ still working with me, I don’t care.”

“I am, Crowley,” Cas lied shamelessly. “Until our plan comes to fruition, I am working with you.”

“Good, good. Now, my boys are on their way with a particularly devilish Alpha Kumiho for me to chat with. You want to stick around, enjoy the fun a little?”

“I am needed in Heaven. My forces must be supported.”

Crowley shook his head and tutted. “You need to learn to delegate, mate.”

“Perhaps,” Cas said. “I will return when I can.”

“You do that,” Crowley said with a smile. “You know how much I enjoy our little chats.”

Cas nodded and a moment later, he was gone, leaving the King of Hell to his next victim.

xXx

The longer Dean drove, the more his tension seemed to build. Sam watched as his hands ceased their drumming on the steering wheel and tightened around it instead. He saw how he went from singing the lyrics in accompaniment to the tape deck to clenching his jaw and staring solidly out of the windshield.

Sam’s own tension grew in response. He tried to hide it, but the mere fact that Dean was reacting like he was made his own hands fist. He wondered if it would be better to tell him the truth, to call Cas and have the conversation Cas thought was such a bad idea. Only the knowledge that Dean’s reaction to the truth would be exponentially worse if he knew what Sam did in the future compared to what he had done now—killing the witch the way he had – kept him silent.

Dean was scared, that was the simple truth of it; he was scared of Sam and what he was doing, perhaps of what he was becoming. Sam understood it. If their positions were reversed, he would feel the exact same way. He would perhaps react even more strongly, given Dean’s recent excursion to Hell. He would think it had changed Dean more than he had thought previously. Sam wished Dean would tell him the truth already. After he’d confessed to his shame of what he’d done in hell, things had seemed a little easier for him, as if the strain of the lie was harder than the strain of the truth. Anything that would help Dean was worth it to Sam. He considered pushing him for the truth, maybe lying about what Dean was saying in his dreams, but decided against it. Dean would probably just shut down even further if he tried.

They turned onto Bobby’s road and Dean steered the car through the wrought iron arch that led to the scrap yard. Sam was glad to get there, not just to escape the stifling tension of the car but also to see Bobby. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had last seen his friend, even though it had been only a day or so. He was not going to see _that_ Bobby though. This was going to be the Bobby who hadn’t yet lived through an apocalypse, the Bobby who had not been betrayed by Sam, at least not that he knew of.

The driver’s side door creaked as Dean threw it open, and Sam was startled from his thoughts. Dean didn’t wait for him to get out before taking the steps two at a time and throwing open the door. Sam climbed out of the car and followed him in.

Bobby was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled mouthwatering. They had only stopped for breakfast on the road—an uncomfortable affair in a diner during which Dean spoke in monosyllables to the waitress and avoided Sam’s eyes—and Sam was hungry.

“Hey, Bobby.”

Bobby looked up and smiled slightly. “Hey. You boys hungry?”

“Starved,” Sam said, but Dean grunted something about taking a shower before striding from the room.

“What’s up with him?” Bobby asked.

“Tough hunt.”

Sam went to the fridge and pulled out two beers. He twisted off the caps and handed one to Bobby then took a deep draw from his own. He sat at the table, staring at Bobby—he hoped—covertly. There were a few less lines around his eyes and fewer grey hairs creeping out from under his trucker cap. It was more than that though. Bobby looked… freer? He hadn’t the cares he had in the future even though they were heading toward the apocalypse. In this time he had faith that they could avert it. He didn’t know Sam would doom them all.

“I got something on my face?” Bobby asked, fixing Sam with a pointed look.

Sam ducked his head, embarrassed to be caught staring. “I guess I spaced. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Bobby said with a grin. “I know I’m irresistible.”

Sam laughed. It was a bright, happy sound in the room, and it made him feel lighter.

The sound of the shower starting up came from up the stairs and Bobby’s eyes drifted to the door. “So, tell me about this tough hunt.”

Sam’s good mood evaporated. “It was Samhain, real badass demon.”

Bobby nodded. “Heard of him.”

“Yeah, well some witches were attempting to raise him. It was one of the seals.”

“And you failed?” Bobby guessed.

“No, we stopped them. Only…I don’t think Dean liked the way I did it.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, you got your psychic whatever on.”

“No,” Sam said, stung despite the fact Bobby was close to the truth of the other time.

Bobby raised his hands, placatory. “Sorry. You can’t blame me for thinking it though.”

“No, I guess not,” Sam said quietly. “Anyway, you want to hear the ending?”

Bobby gestured for him to go on.

“I killed the first witch easily enough, used Ruby’s knife. It was the second that was the problem. She was so close, Bobby, to getting the ritual done, I had to do it.” He drew a deep breath. “I broke her neck.”

Bobby’s eyes widened. “You broke her _neck_! With your bare hands?”

Sam nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.”

Bobby whistled between his teeth. “I see.”

“I had no choice,” Sam said defensively. “It was that or a whole town getting wiped off the map by the angels.”

That was the crux of it. Sam did what he did to save a whole town. He hadn’t enjoyed it, he wasn’t proud, but he’d done the right thing. The seal was saved and the witches were dead. That was all that mattered.

He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him and he looked up, meeting his gaze. “I did what I had to do.”

“Yeah,” Bobby said slowly. “I get that, I do, but at the same time…” he sighed.

“What?”

“You’re different.”

Sam closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. Of course he was different. He had been different the first time he lived through these days, too. He had lived four months without his brother, doing everything he could to save Dean, almost killing himself. That had changed him even without the demon blood. Now he was back with a mission. He had to save the damn world from the dick angels. Dean was carrying Hell on his back, and Sam was carrying the world.

“Yeah,” he said, turning away. “I am.”

“Sam…” Bobby said behind him, consoling and a little apologetic.

Sam didn’t look back. He went out to the car and grabbed his duffel from the truck. When he came back inside, Bobby was staring pointedly at the pan on the stove. He didn’t say anything as Sam passed through the room and made his way up the stairs.

Sam went into the bedroom he and Dean shared when they were crashing at Bobby’s. He sat on the edge of his bed and rested his slightly shaking hands on his knees. He had thought Bobby would understand what he did, even though Dean hadn’t. Bobby hadn’t even been there, and yet his reaction was almost a carbon copy of Dean. Maybe Sam had made a mistake by insisting that they come back here. Maybe he should have let the dust settle, given Dean a chance to get over it before coming back, so he would have a little support. Would he though? Was this something Dean would ever understand?

He heard the shower shutting off and a minute later, Dean came into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He glanced at Sam with an unreadable expression and then picked up his duffel and rooted through it for clean clothes.

“I’m gonna shower.”

“Bobby’s cooking,” Dean reminded him without meeting his eye.

“Not hungry,” Sam lied. He was hungry, starving even, but he didn’t want to deal with the disapproval from two angles while he tried to eat.

xXx

When Sam was showered and dressed, he padded down the stairs and into the hall. He was on the verge of entering the library when he heard the voices within.

“He just snapped it, like _snapped_ it?”

“I told ya, Bobby, it was like he was a machine. Bare hands. No emotion. No regret. Just determination.” He heard the sound of metal scraping china and he realized they were eating. He was apparently the dinner conversation.

“That don’t sound like him,” Bobby said. “I mean, he told me what happened, but he didn’t exactly seem proud of what he did.”

He heard a heavy sigh and then Dean’s voice. “Proud or not, he did it, and it was _cold_. I don’t know, Bobby, he isn’t the same man.”

“Who is anymore?” Bobby asked. “You’re different, I’m different, and Sam is, too. We’ve had a hell of a year, and we’ve got these damn seals looming over us and angels flapping around.”

“That’s another thing. He met Castiel and this other dick Uriel, and he just… I don’t know, he wasn’t scared of them at all. They were threatening to take out the whole town and Sam treated it like a joke.”

Sam frowned. He hadn’ttreated _that_ like a joke. He’d been dead serious. The only time he gave the angels crap was when they gave it first. They deserved it, too.

“I thought Sam was down on the side of the angels,” Bobby said.

“Me too, but he sure as hell wasn’t when he was with them. It was like he didn’t care what they thought. It wasn’t that long ago that he was praying and all dewy eyed at the thought of them.”

There was the sound of cutlery being dropped heavily down onto the table and a scraping that told him someone had pushed their plate away. “I don’t know that this is a bad thing,” Bobby said, and Sam’s head snapped up. “He might be a little different—“

“Little,” Dean scoffed.

“—but he’s hunting like a pro now. Isn’t that what you and your daddy always wanted? He’s committed in a way he’s never been before. Even the last year, when you were careening toward the rack, he didn’t care about the hunt; he was all about saving you. He’s a damn good hunter, too, and we’re going to need him if we’re going to come out on top over Lilith. I think you just have to trust in your brother, Dean.”

There was a prolonged silence, and then Dean said. “Remember what Yellow-Eyes said, about Sam coming back different?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe this is it,” Dean said in a low voice. “Maybe there really is something wrong with him.”

Sam sucked in a quiet breath. He didn’t know Yellow-Eyes has said that to Dean. It all clicked into place now though. Why Dean had been constantly asking him how he felt and if he was okay. He wasn’t concerned for Sam; he was worried Sam was changing.

Sam had heard enough. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, listen to this anymore. He didn’t want any more insight into what his brother was thinking. If this was how he was reacting to one dead witch, how would he handle it if he knew about what Sam was yet to do? Sam hoped he never found out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jenjoremy for beta’ing and Gredelina1 for all the support in the outlining and writing stages.

Sam woke the next morning early, not long after dawn, and glanced to the second bed to see it empty. Not just empty, but untouched. Dean hadn’t gone to bed last night. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d crashed in front of the TV while watching a late night movie, but Sam wondered if it was intentional, if he just couldn’t bear to be close to Sam.

He was fixated on the conversation he’d heard between Dean and Bobby. Dean thought he’d come back wrong. The worst part was Sam was starting to wonder if he might be right. He _was_ different. He had been different from the moment he heard about Dean’s deal. He’d suffered a year knowing Dean was headed to Hell because of him, and then he’d lost his brother. How could that not change him? He’d lived four months in a world without Dean, four impossibly dark months that had left him allied with Ruby and with an addiction that almost killed him. But were the changes due to his circumstance or had he just been brought back _wrong_?

He didn’t want to believe it; how could he change anything if he really had been doomed by his resurrection, but the thought slammed against his mind regardless. Part of him, the part of him that remembered how things were going to happen if he didn’t change the future, wanted to talk it out with Dean. He wanted to force him to discuss his fears and make sense of them, but he was afraid of what would happen. Dean wouldn’t want to talk. He rarely, if ever, _wanted_ to talk. So it would be a problem from the outset. And then, if he did push his brother into conversation, what defense could he give?

He threw back his blankets and swung himself round to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat for a moment, rubbing his eyes and trying to shake off his weariness, before getting to his feet and grabbing his wash-bag from the dresser.

Sam took his time in the shower, scrubbing at his body in an attempt to rid himself of the tainted feeling of the blood in him. Despite the buzz and strength it gave him, then and now, he couldn’t deny that it was wrong. It made him feel wrong, dirty, cursed, doomed. No amount of showering could remove the taint though, he knew that, so he eventually gave up trying and shut off the water. He wrapped a towel around his waist and rubbed another through his hair. He sat on the bed and pulled his duffel over to him, searching for clothes. He took out a blue shirt and clean jeans and then dried off and got dressed. Though he was in no real hurry to get downstairs, Bobby’s house wasn’t well heated—there was a reason they congregated in the library with its fireplace—and the longer he stayed undressed, the more chance there was of frostbite.

He laced his shoes and then made his way down the stairs. There was a rumble of voices coming from the kitchen, but he didn’t pause to listen. He had learned his lesson the hard way in that respect. He strode into the room and moved straight to the coffee pot, casting the room an oblique glance as he did. There was a bed of blanket and pillows on the couch. So it hadn’t been a random crash in front of the TV after all. Dean was sitting at the table opposite Bobby, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands. He was dressed in the same clothes from the night before, obviously, and his eyes were shadowed. From lack of sleep or a night spent worrying about his _different,_ neck-snappingbrother? Sam shook his head jerkily and poured himself a mug of coffee, trying to shake off the bitter thought. Dean had every right to doubt him—he didn’t know the half of it and was feeling this way—but it still burned Sam.

He leaned against the counter and sipped at his coffee. It was black and unsweetened, the way Dean liked it not him, but he didn’t bother to doctor it. He needed the caffeine hit.

Conversation had faltered with his appearance, and he glanced from Dean to Bobby to see if either were going to start up again, but they were both avoiding his eye, making it obvious to him that he had been the subject of their talk.

Suddenly, Sam was angry. He didn’t care that they had no idea about what was really happening, that if they knew they would have every right to throw him out on his ass. All he cared about was the fact that the people he had risked everything for, busted his soul for, were acting like this. A diatribe was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. He would reveal too much if he spoke now, letting the nature of his arrival in their time slip, or his other big secret, and he couldn’t risk that. If they knew about demon blood, they’d have him in that panic room before he had a chance to run and if they knew that he was out of his time… He couldn’t risk the angels finding out. Who knew what they would do. He needed to get away.

He downed his scalding coffee and grimaced as it seared his throat then set the mug down on the counter. “There’s a few things I need to do today, Bobby,” he said. “You mind I take the Chevelle?”

Bobby started as if coming out of a daydream. “What? Uh, sure. Keys are in the dish.”

Sam grabbed them and quickly left the room. He hesitated by the stairs, sure Dean would say something about him going off on his own, but he didn’t, wouldn’t, because despite his worries about the changes in Sam, he was accustomed to _this_ Sam taking off on his own for food and cases and demon blood. He hadn’t yet learned that leaving Sam alone led to trouble. He would learn, though, sooner than Sam would like.

Sam practically jogged to the bedroom and then his hands scrambled for the clothes and wash bag that were dotted around the small room. He stuffed everything in his duffel and turned to take in the room. He had left nothing behind; he had removed his presence completely. It wasn’t for good, just a few days, just long enough for him to find a way to deal with what Dean was thinking about him and to find a way get on with his mission regardless. Long enough for them both to calm down. Just a few days. That was all he needed. And luckily, he knew just where to go.

xXx

Sam wasn’t even out of South Dakota before his phone rang. He pulled over to the side of the road and pulled it from his pocket. He knew even before he checked the caller ID that it was Dean. He connected the call and braced himself before lifting it to his ear and saying, “Hey.”

Dean made no attempt to conceal his anger. “Where the hell are you?”

Sam bit back a sigh. “I’m just doing a few things.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sam. I’ve seen the bedroom. You took all your stuff. What kinds of ‘things’ need you to pack up your crap and take off?”

“Just… things,” Sam said evasively.

“Well you can turn your ass around and come back. Bobby wants his car back.”

“I bet he does,” Sam said scornfully. “Look, Dean, I’m not taking off. I’ve just got things to do and I need a few days to do them.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. He didn’t want to have this conversation, but perhaps it was for the best. He had tried to hide everything from Dean the first time he lived through these events, and that couldn’t have gone worse if he planned it. Maybe he needed to be honest, or as honest as he could be, this time. “Like a hunt.”

“You’re hunting alone?” Dean exclaimed stridently.

“Yes. It’s a simple job, I can take care of it myself.”

“The hell you can.”

Sam sighed. “What are you really worried about, Dean? Me or the thing I’m hunting? Yeah, I heard you and Bobby talking yesterday. I know how freaked out you are. I heard what Yellow-Eyes said about me.”

There was a quick indrawn breath on the other end of the call. Sam could easily imagine Dean’s face: shocked guilt quickly transitioning to anger as he came to the defensive. “What? You were eavesdropping on us?”

“Yeah, and I’m glad I did. You should have told me what he said. I could have told you he was wrong.” He said the words with confidence even if he wasn’t so sure about them.

“What about the witch, Sam? And Gordon and Ruby and you pulling demons with your mind and whatever else crap you’re still hiding?”

“All of that, _all of it,_ was for the greater good,” Sam said bitterly.

The speaker rustled as Dean sighed heavily. “I know you think that, I do, but Sammy, you gotta see this from my point of view.”

Sam smiled at the reemergence of the nickname. It meant Dean was trying to calm down, trying to connect with him again. “I do,” he said. “I get it. But it doesn’t change anything. I’m not hurting people. I’m doing my job, and what I’m going to do now is my job, too.”

“Tell me where you are and I’ll come meet you,” Dean said, relentless.

“No. I’m going to finish this hunt and then I’ll come back. I’m not ditching you for good. I just think we both need some space.”

“Dammit, Sam—“

“I’ll call you in a couple days,” Sam interrupted.

“Sam!”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Sam ended the call and tossed the phone down onto the seat beside him. He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed as the phone started ringing again. He checked the caller ID and saw it was Bobby this time. Not wanting to repeat the conversation he’d just had, or maybe deal with Bobby’s demands to return the car, he switched the phone off and tucked it into his pocket again. If they really needed to get hold of him, they could use Castiel. He didn’t have the rib etchings yet, so he was traceable, not that he would be needed. They could get on without him just fine for a few days or however long it actually took him to get this done.

The next hunt he and Dean had tackled after Samhain was the haunting of the women’s health club that had turned out to be a pervy kid who could make himself invisible because he made a wish. He’d considered ducking out on this hunt, but then he’d remembered Audrey and her teddy. He couldn’t abandon her, and he needed something to distract him while he gave Dean time to work through what he was thinking. It wouldn’t be nearly as complicated this time; he already knew the coin was the problem from the outset and he knew who he needed to pull it—that sleaze Wes. All he had to do was find a way to persuade him that the wishes turned bad and he’d be golden. Luckily, he had a couple of days of driving to come up with something.

xXx

After two long days spent driving, and a longer night spent the night sleeping in the car, Sam drove past the sign welcoming him to the small town of Concrete, Washington at noon. There was one place to stay in town that sounded pricey — Mountain Suites — but was actually the usual low budget motel Sam was used to staying in. It felt strange to book a single; it reminded him horribly of the way things had been when Dean was gone. It had taken him a month in that time to stop booking a double. The pain of asking for a single then, accepting the change, was less than the pain of looking at the empty bed and knowing it would stay empty forever because its occupier was gone.

He checked in with the portly man sitting in the office and smiled convincingly when the man assured him he’d have a _‘great stay in their fine establishment’_. His assertions were immediately proven false when Sam let himself into the room. The walls were eye-watering yellow —they made Sam feel like he had a migraine developing after only a moment looking at them—coupled with a brown and orange striped bedspread. It looked like this room had been decorated in the seventies and hadn’t been touched since. He considered booking it out of there and finding somewhere to squat for his stay, but the allure of a hot shower called to him after two days in a car.

Sam’s need to cleanse himself had to go on the backburner, though, as he had to make sure Audrey was okay first. He didn’t know how long she’d been on her own last time while her parents sunned themselves in Bali, but however long it had been was too long. He dumped his bag and changed into his fed suit, then went out to the car again. He remembered Audrey’s house from last time—the place you’d encountered a giant, talking teddy bear wasn’t something you forgot—so he drove straight across town to her street. He thought there was a chance that her parents wouldn’t have made their wish yet and would still be home, so he’d planned a story of a disturbance in town that he needed witnesses of to cover if they were suspicious. He thought that parents who would leave their child alone like they had last time were unlikely to be suspicious, though.

He pulled up in front of the neat looking house, with the small bike resting on the fence, and climbed out of the car. Adjusting his tie, he scaled the steps and pressed the doorbell. There was a pause and then the sound of a lock disengaging could be heard. The door opened and Audrey peeked out, her young face concerned.

“Hello?”

“Hi there,” Sam said brightly. “Are your mommy and daddy home?”

She shook her head. “They went on vacation.”

Sam cursed inwardly. He wasn’t in time to block their wish. He wondered how many others he’d missed. “Is there someone else here with you?” he asked hopefully.

“Mrs. Hurley lives down the street.”

Sam’s false smile widened. “Okay, then. How about you go there and tell her about mommy and daddy going on vacation.”

She shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to leave him.”

Naturally, he hadn’t missed _her_ wish either. Sam schooled his features into a soft smile and crouched so he was on her level. “Your teddy?”

“He’s sick.”

Sam nodded slowly, not quite believing he was pulling _this_ lie out of his ass. “That’s okay. I’m a teddy bear doctor. I can take a look at him and make him better.”

“You can?” she asked hopefully.

“I can,” Sam nodded. “Sick teddies are very common this time of year.”

She stepped forward and threw her small arms around his neck. “Thank you. Thank you.” Sam leaned into her embrace slightly, relishing the innocence of the contact. She didn’t know him, didn’t know what he had done or would do, and she seemed to have absolute faith that he could fix her problems.

Sam patted her back. “Yeah, I’ll take care of him just as soon as you go to Mrs. Hurley’s.”

“Okay,” she said brightly, releasing him and turning and running back into the house and up the stairs. Sam followed her in and waited at the foot of the stairs, admiring the photos of Audrey through the years displayed on the wall.

After a minute, he heard a voice shout. “Shut the damn door!”

Realizing his mistake, Sam bolted up the stairs to see Audrey standing defiantly in the doorway to her room. She had her hands on her hips and was saying, “Teddy, I brought a nice doctor to help you. He’s going to make you all better.”

Sam stood behind her and nodded encouragingly.

“Make _me_ better! What about the world? Who will save the world…?” The word became a howl.

“I don’t think he can do that,” Audrey said matter-of-factly.

Sam smiled grimly. He was doing his damndest to try.

Audrey grabbed a knapsack from the end of the bed and began stuffing it with clothes from her drawers and a couple toys from the pink chest under the window. When she was done, she cinched it closed and turned expectantly to Sam. “Take good care of him.”

“Oh, I will,” Sam said with a firm nod. “He’ll be just fine. You go along now and I’ll come get you when he’s all better.”

Audrey smiled at Sam and the teddy and then skipped from the room, looking completely at ease. Sam watched from the landing as she let herself out and then he turned his attention back to the teddy.

“Gonna fix me, huh?” it said.

“Gonna try,” Sam replied. “You just hang here and I’ll get back with some help soon.” He turned to leave, but then he remembered what had led them to this house the first time round. He spun on his heel and pointed an accusatory finger. “No booze runs! There’s got to be alcohol in the house already and if you’re looking for porn, look in the master bedroom closet.” He was pulling it out of his ass, but he figured the teddy searching for porn would give him long enough to get it locked up safe and sound.

He closed the bedroom door behind him and jogged down the stairs. The back door was located off the kitchen, and there were keys hanging on a hook beside it. Sam took them down and locked the door, sliding across the bolts at both top and bottom for good measure. He didn’t know how long it would hold the bear—it had broken _into_ the liquor store after all—but anything that would slow him down was good. He wasn’t so worried about people seeing the bear, the town was screwed to hell already, but he wanted Audrey out of the way before he got free. He took the keys for the front door from a bowl on an end table and stepped outside. He locked up, making sure to engage the deadbolt as well at the latch and then he turned away from the house and made for the car again.

Sliding in behind the wheel, he took stock of what he’d done. Audrey was taken care of and her teddy was slowed in its escape if not detained completely; the next step had to be stopping more halfwits from making their wishes. Simple enough, right?

xXx

He dug through the cigar box in the trunk for his next ID before making his way into Lucky Chin’s restaurant. It was reasonably busy for early evening, and there was a couple standing beside the fountain, holding hands and speaking softly together. Sam wondered if they were syncing wishes. He remembered the last time, when he’d been here with Dean. Dean had asked him what he would wish, and Sam had said for Lilith’s head on a plate. It was strange how completely his thoughts had changed now compared to then. Now, he would have no wish because he was already living his wish. He’d wanted to change the future, and he was getting his chance thanks to Cas. He would ask for nothing now.

As he watched, the man at the fountain sifted through his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. Knowing he was seconds away from having another wish to clean up after, Sam pulled out his badge and shouted at the top of his voice, aware of how ridiculous he sounded. “Put down the chopsticks!”

Everyone fell silent and looked at him for a moment, and then muttering broke out.

The owner of the restaurant came jogging forward, hands raised in front of him and a tense expression. “What are you doing?”

Sam kept his voice loud so that he could be heard by the diners. “Sir, I’m from the Health Department. We’ve had calls about this establishment, and I can already see three violations.”

“Violations!” the man hissed.

“Three, and that’s just so far,” Sam said, making no effort to keep his voice low. “I’m going to have to ask you to close until my investigation can be carried out. This is for public safety.”

The man paled. “Close?”

Sam glanced around the room. All around the room, people were watching him, including the would-be wishers at the fountain. “I’m afraid I need to ask you all to leave,” he called loudly. “The Health Department is putting Lucky Chin’s under investigation.”

People pushed back chairs and slid from booths, collected coats and bags and made their way to the exit. The owner groaned beside him, and Sam wondered idly just how much this ‘investigation’ would cost him in lost business.

A heavy-set man struggled over to Sam, clutching his stomach. “What if we already ate?” he asked. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Sir,” Sam said in his best government official imitation, “if you are feeling unwell, report to the ER and explain where you have been and what you had to eat. They’ll know what to give you.” Probably antacids from the look of the man’s table. There was almost a full dinner service of empty plates and bowls left behind.

When the last person had left the restaurant, the owner turned to Sam. “What violations?”

“A K-32, X-13 and M-24,” Sam said, the nonsense spilling off his tongue. “And I think I just saw a rat run out of the kitchen. That’s a F-19 right there.”

“No rats!” the man protested. “We keep a clean place.”

Sam shook his head soberly. “I don’t think you do, sir. I am going to have to insist that you remain closed for the foreseeable future. I will assemble a team to complete a full inspection, and then you will be given a list of violations to correct. Then, and only then, will you be able to reopen to the public.”

The man shook his head miserably. “This is my business.”

“And this is people’s health,” Sam said implacably. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

He stowed his badge back in his suit jacket pocket and walked over to the fountain. He peered into the water, searching for the coin. It was there, nestled among the pennies and dimes. He figured it was worth a try, so he crouched and attempted to lift it. It wouldn’t budge.

“You stealing from me now?” the man said stridently.

“Checking the temperature of the water,” Sam said. “Too warm and you create a breeding ground for legionnaires’ disease. It seems a little warm, so keep away from it until it can be tested.”

“You touched it.”

“I’m inoculated.” Sam rubbed his damp hand down his pants’ leg. “I’ve got to make a report to the office. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

He strode from the restaurant, thanking his lucky stars that he’d been able to bluff his way through it all. There would be no more wishes; now he just needed to get to Wes and persuade him to pull the coin and the hunt would be over. It was a lot easier handling cases when you knew exactly what was happening from the outset. It was a pay off, he guessed, for everything this change of pace meant for his personal relationships.

xXx

Sam couldn’t deny the lure of the shower, the desire to scrub and scratch at his skin to remove the taint, any longer, so he went back to the motel. He stripped down and hung his suit carefully on the back of the door. The water pressure in the shower wasn’t the best, not that he’d expected it to be, but the water reached scorching heat, so he was satisfied. He stayed under the spray for a long time, feeling the heat seep into his bones and blood, the blood that was his curse. The blood that he wanted now, even knowing what it would do to him, because there was something he needed it for still. There was _someone_ he needed it for.

When the water started to cool, he got out of the shower stall and dried himself roughly with a towel. He pulled on boxers and a clean t-shirt and sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his damp hair. When it was dried enough. He dressed in his suit again and exchanged his health department badge for some business cards declaring him to be a lawyer from a Californian firm. The lie made him smile. In another life maybe.

He made the short drive over to Wes’ house and climbed out of the car. He knew this was the most important part of the case, not Audrey or the restaurant, because Wes, creepy and immoral as he may be, was the one with the fate of the town in his hands. As he scaled the steps to the house, he pushed aside his personal feelings about the man and slapped on a professional smile.

He knocked and after only a moment, April opened the door, drying her hands on a cloth. She eyed him curiously. “Can I help you?”

“Hello. I’m looking for Wesley Mondale,” Sam said.

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want him for?”

“My name is Sal Harman from Harman, Ryder and Sloane law firm. I need to see Mr. Mondale in regards to his late aunt’s estate.”

April smiled slightly. “Estate, huh?” Sam guessed she was thinking wedding bells. When he and Dean had been here the first time, she’d been in the middle of planning a wedding day for her and Wes, and her plans hadn’t been exactly small considering her understanding explanation that Wes was ‘between jobs’. A little contribution from a dead relative would make all her Justin Alexander dreams come true.

“Is Mr. Mondale home?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, sure. Please, come in.” She stepped back and Sam entered, taking in the somber wallpaper and dark wood furnishings. She led him into the lounge where Wes was dozing in a chair, drooling a little. “Wes,” she said gently, shaking his arm. “There’s a lawyer here to see you.”

Wes started awake and blinked blearily. “A what?”

“Sam Harman,” Sam said, stepping forward and holding out a hand for Wes to shake. “I’m here about your Great Aunt Elspeth’s estate.”

“Aunt Elspeth,” he said shrewdly, shaking Sam’s hand. “I didn’t know she’d passed.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. It was either an incredible coincidence that he really had a Great Aunt Elspeth or he was a lot smarter than Sam gave him credit for. It didn’t much matter to him, he wasn’t giving Wes anything expect perhaps a punch for the trouble he caused, but it still seemed wrong.

Sam looked pointedly at April. “Is it possible for us to have this conversation in private?”

Wes nodded. “Sure. Uh, April, you mind giving us a minute?”

She shook her head happily. “No problem. I’ll go finish preparing dinner.”

She leaned over Wes and pressed her lips to his in what started as a chaste kiss but soon became a make-out session. Sam shifted uncomfortably. This was just plain wrong. She had no feelings for him, she wouldn’t even know who he was when the wish wore off, and yet she was kissing him like her life depended on it.

He cleared his throat and said, “I have other things I need to do…”

Wes and April pulled apart, both a little breathless and flushed. Sam looked pointedly at Wes, and April scurried from the room with promises that dinner would be ready soon.

Wes watched her go and then looked at Sam. “So, Aunt Elspeth.”

Sam heard pans clattering in the kitchen and figured April was distracted enough for them to talk. “Cut the crap. You don’t have an Aunt Elspeth and I’m not a lawyer. I’m here to talk about you and April, and while we’re on the subject, are you even aware of how messed up this whole situation is? Kissing her! Seriously?”

Wes gaped at him. “You want to talk about April? Are you her ex? Because she chose me fair and square.”

“No, she’s been enslaved to you because of a wish. I’m not her ex. I’m just someone who knows—and is horrified by—what you’ve done to her.”

Wes got to his feet and pointed to the door. “Get out of my house!” he said loudly.

Sam he pulled his jacket back slightly to reveal the gun in a holster on his hip. “I think I’ll stay.”

Wes paled. “What do you want?”

“I want you to come with me to Lucky Chin’s to pick up that damned coin and end the town’s wishful streak.”

“But then… April,” Wes said, a slight tremble to his voice.

“Will leave your sorry ass, yes.”

“Why would I do that? She _loves_ me, like real, true, all encompassing love. Why would I give that up?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Sam tried. “Because you’ve practically enslaved her, and that’s all kinds of messed up.” Seeing he was getting nowhere, Sam changed tactics. “Because if you don’t, I’ll shoot you in the foot.”

Wes seemed to consider for a moment. “Nah. I’ll take a bullet to the foot to keep April.”

Sam shook his head in frustration. “The wishes turn bad, Wes. Your whole town’s going to be torn apart by what they’re wishing for. People will die.” Inspiration struck Sam. “You will die. April’s not what you expected, is she? She’s in love with you, but she’s not the woman you loved from afar. She’s too intense, too focused. She’ll hurt you.”

Wes shrugged. “I don’t think so. See, I wished for her to love me more than anything. She wouldn’t hurt me. How wrong can a wish for love go anyway? No, I think I’ll just stay as I am, thanks.”

Sam let his hand drop to the gun on his hip. “You sure about that foot? Being shot hurts a lot more than TV makes it seem.”

“How do you know all this anyway?”

“About being shot? Because I have been. About April? Because I can see the future and I’ve seen what will happen to you. It’s all very Romeo and Juliet.”

Wes laughed long and hard. “You can see the future? Are you kidding me? You’re crazy!”

Sam sighed. “Sure, coins making wishes come true you believe, but psychic powers you think are crazy.”

Wes picked up a phone from the side-table and pressed three digits in quick succession. “You are going to leave now, before I press call and have the police here. It’s a small town. It’ll only take them a couple minutes to get here. You might be a giant but I’m pretty sure I can take you down and keep you there until they come. I work out.”

Sam shook his head. He could wrestle the phone away from Wes easily enough, but April was in the kitchen, hopelessly devoted to him; in fact, she was so devoted that last time she’d wished for Sam to be killed rather than have Wes pull the coin. If she heard a disturbance, he had no doubt that she would come in wielding a knife to protect her beloved. Thinking it’d be nice to make it through a hunt without having to die or stitch his own ragged wounds, he dropped his hands to his sides and said, “Fine. I’ll leave, but this isn’t over. You _are_ going to pull that coin.”

“If you say so,” Wes said happily.

Sam turned on his heel and stalked from the house. He stomped down the steps and yanked open the car door, throwing himself inside. He was pissed. He’d thought this would be an easy run - persuade Wes to pull the coin and be heading back to Sioux Falls before dawn. Unfortunately, the guy’s damn arrogance and obsession with April screwed up that plan.

Sam made his way back to the motel through town, and he got another nasty shock as he drove past Lucky Chin’s. The owner was standing outside the door, gesturing people inside. Even worse, people were actually going in. Sam cursed as he slammed on the brakes and threw open the car door. “What are you doing?” he shouted, grabbing two women by the arm and steering them away from the door. “Move along, ladies, this place is under investigation for a—“

“No!” the man shouted angrily. “No investigation. No rats. No codes. I called the Health Department. They said they sent no one to restaurant. They said we have a clean bill of health in last inspection and one not scheduled for three months. They said the codes were made up.” He narrowed his eyes at Sam. “They said F-19 is an airplane!”

Sam would have laughed had the situation not been so dire. He glanced through the open door and saw the young couple from before were standing by the fountain again. Even as he watched, the man flicked a coin into the air and watched it drop into the water. Sam waited, morbidly curious, to see what would happen. The woman suddenly licked her lips and pounced on him, slamming their lips together. From the way they started ripping at each other’s clothing, Sam concluded that the wish was either for more passion between them or public sex—either way, it had to stop. The owner seemed to come to the same realization, as he disregarded Sam and ran to the couple, waving his arms and shouting, “No!” while the other diners watched with amusement and in more than a few cases, envy.

Sam knew he needed to do something but he didn’t know what. He had to empty the place again, but short of pulling a gun and ordering everyone out, he wasn’t sure how to accomplish that. His eyes fell on the fire alarm on the wall. He could set that ringing but, like his Health Department cover, it would be a very temporary fix. Then another idea occurred to him. He slipped past the making out couple who were now well on the way to naked and the owner who was imploring them to dress again and into the small hall that led to the restrooms. He glanced up and saw what he needed, a smoke alarm with a small added sensor. He pulled his lighter from his pocket, thankful of his Father’s Boy Scout training in his youth, and flicked the flame to life. He held it under the sensor and a moment later a shrill alarm rang out followed by a deluge of water from the sprinklers. Sam was soaked through almost immediately by the powerful spray. He heard shrieks from the main restaurant that he sincerely hoped were people reacting to the dousing they were getting rather than the floorshow.

He slopped through the water back into the main room, relieved to see people fleeing through the door. The only ones who remained were the owner and the couple on the floor who seemed to think the water added something to their position and were currently slip sliding all over each other.

“You!” the owner shouted, catching sight of Sam. “You did this!”

“Sir, I think you should leave the building,” Sam said calmly, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. “It appears to be on fire.”

He walked out the front door, his feet squelching in his shoes, and climbed into the car, mentally adding Concrete, Washington to the list of places he could never visit again once this case was over.

xXx

Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, running a towel through his drying hair—again—when there was a familiar fluttering sound. His gaze snapped up and he saw Castiel standing in front of the bathroom door.

“Cas?” he said, framing it as a question.

Castiel nodded. “It is I.”

Sam smiled. “You might watch to ditch the coat or something; it’d make it easier for me to tell which version I am dealing with.

Castiel plucked at the front of his coat, looking reluctant. Sam realized the only time he’d seen Castiel without his coat was when he wasn’t himself—when he’d been blasted back to Heaven and Jimmy had been running free for a while.

“Or the tie,” Sam suggested. “You know, just something so I don’t get my timeless angels mixed up.”

Castiel nodded and tugged off his tie and slipped it into a pocket. “Better?”

“Much.”

Sam tossed aside his towel and leaned forward. “So, what’s up?”

“I have been back to Bobby and Dean,” Castiel said, “to check on the progress of the things we are changing.”

Sam’s heart seemed to stutter in his chest. “And? Is it time to bounce me back? Because that’d be awesome.”

Castiel shook his head. “No. The only thing that had changed was the fact you didn’t exorcise Samhain. All their other memories are the same.”

Sam cursed and cast his eyes down. He hadn’t really expected it to be that simple, but he hadn’t been able to help hoping. He wanted to get back to _his_ time, to Dean and Bobby and a world in which Dean didn’t think he was some defect brought back by the demon he’d dealt with.

“How are they doing?” Sam asked without looking up.

“They are much as you would expect them to be. They are concerned for you, and Dean was angry still, but I was able to reassure them somewhat.”

“And me? The other me? What am I doing?”

“You are still restrained in the panic room. I have added protection in the form of chains… and Balthazar.”

Disregarding the mention of chains, Sam smiled and met Castiel’s eyes. “That’ll be interesting. How long do you think it’ll be before him and Dean try to kill each other?”

Castiel returned the smile. “They will control themselves. This is for the greater good.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Castiel frowned. The old Castiel — the angel of this time — would have taken Sam at his word and explained exactly how their plan was for the good of the world, but this one was savvy enough to know better. “How are things for you?” he asked.

Sam shrugged. “So far I’m failing epically at hunting alone. I figured this was an easy one, persuade some dick to pull his lucky coin, but he’s not exactly on board with losing access to the woman he’s lusting over. He threatened to call the police; I wasn’t actually worried about that, but I was worried about the lusting woman. Last time I countered her, I ended up getting struck by lightning. I’d really like to avoid that this time.”

“How can I help?” Castiel asked.

Sam considered before grinning. “How would you feel about pulling out the whole ‘I-am-an-angel-of-the-Lord’ thing and scaring the morals into him?”

Castiel looked amused. “I think I would enjoy that.”

Sam laughed. “Awesome.”

Sam’s suit was soaked and hanging on the back of the door, but he didn’t really need to keep up the lawyer pretense anymore, so he finished dressing in a plain shirt and pulled on his boots. While he dressed, Castiel told him about Dean and Bobby in the time he’d left. It was little things, like the fact Bobby was staying clear of Sam’s soulless self while Dean attempted to keep watch over him, that Sam appreciated hearing. It made them feel a little closer to him. He also told him about Crowley and how he was still interrogating the alphas in an attempt to get information on Purgatory. It pleased Sam that he wasn’t any further toward an answer yet. The fact he’d been using alphas for almost two years without any success was reassuring.

When Sam was ready, he described the address they needed to visit. He moved to Castiel’s side and a moment later they were in Wes’ dark lounge again. There was a picked over roast chicken on a side table and the man in question was dozing in the chair again. Sam wondered if he ever did anything but sleep. It seemed a waste of a wish to enslave a beautiful woman just to use her for snacks and housekeeping. On the other hand, he was pleased as the more time Wes spent sleeping, the less time he spent violating April.

“How shall we do this?” Castiel asked.

“First off, we need to make sure April’s out of the way,” Sam said, stepping lightly across the room and peering around the door into the kitchen. April was sitting at the table with a cookbook open in front of her and a cup of coffee in her hand. Sam gestured Castiel over to him and whispered. “Think you can put her out while we talk?”

Castiel looked amused, as though the question was stupid. In retrospect, Sam realized it was. Castiel could do anything he damn well pleased. Biting back an apology, Sam watched as Castiel disappeared from beside him and appeared behind April. With a simple touch of fingertips to her forehead, he rendered her unconscious and eased her head down to the table.

“Thanks,” Sam said quietly. “Now, let’s deal with the douche.”

He went back to the lounge and grabbed Wes’ arm. He shook it roughly and Wes started awake. His eyes widened when he saw Sam standing in front of him, hands fisted. “You? Again?”

“Yes,” Sam said menacingly. “Me. And this time, I brought a friend.”

Castiel stepped into the room, into Wes’ view.

“Who are you?” Wes asked.

Sam grinned. This would be good.

“My name is Castiel and I am an angel of the Lord.”

Wes snorted. “Sure you are. I’m Wes and I’m a minion of Hell.”

“Not completely wrong,” Sam muttered.

Castiel straightened and his blade slid into his hand. The lights flickered and across the wall flashed a shadowy outline of his vast wings while his bright blue eyes glowed eerily. Sam had never seen him like this before, and if he hadn’t known him so well, he would have been scared. Wes didn’t know him, and in the face of Castiel’s intimidating display, he paled and shrunk back.

“What do you want with me?” Wes asked in a tremulous voice.

“I want you to come with me and remove the curse that hangs over this town,” Castiel said. “I understand it’s just a case of removing a coin from a fountain. It’s unfortunate, I would have preferred something painful.”

Sam bit back a smile. Castiel was obviously enjoying himself.

Wes nodded eagerly. “Sure. Okay. I’ll do that.” He struggled to his feet. “Anything you want.”

Sam grinned this time, making sure to direct it at Wes who looked like he was fighting the urge to urinate from pure fear. Sam was really enjoying himself now.

“Brace yourself,” Castiel said.

Sam felt the sensation of moving and less than a second later, he was standing in an inch of water beside the fountain in Lucky Chin’s restaurant.

Wes didn’t brace himself. He either didn’t know how or Castiel had done it on purpose, but he stumbled and slipped on the water, falling back to land hard on the floor. His pants immediately soaked through, making it look as though he had peed himself after all.

Castiel peered into the fountain and nodded as Sam heaved Wes to his feet and gripped the back of his shirt. “Come on,” he said cheerfully. “Up ya come.”

Wes leaned forward and his fingers touched the coin. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Sam shook the back of his shirt.

“Wes…” he hissed.

Wes gripped the coin and lifted in from the fountain. Sam snatched it from his hand and pocketed it. “Thank you.”

Wes slumped visibly and rubbed a hand over his face. “True love lost,” he mumbled.

Sam didn’t even have a reply to that which didn’t involve a fist to the face, so he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to Cas and said, “We done?”

Castiel nodded. “I can feel the curse lifting. The town will return to normal.”

“Awesome.” Sam nudged Wes’ arm with a fist, maybe a little too hard as Wes rocked on his feet. “You, go home now. Live a clean life without cursed coins and wishes, and maybe I won’t come back and kick your ass.”

“A _clean_ life,” Castiel reiterated. “I will be watching you.”

Sam huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, Castiel here is between prayers right now, so he’ll be keeping an eye on you. Think of it, a real life angel on your shoulder.”

Wes flinched. Sam would have laid it on a little thicker, had a little more fun with him, but Castiel suddenly stiffened.

“What?”

“There is another angel in this town,” Castiel said. “I can sense Uriel.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Does he know you’re here, too?”

“No,” Castiel said. “I am shielding myself from their view, but he is not alone.”

Sam merely looked his confusion and Castiel went on.

“Sam, he brought Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jenjoremy for the awesome beta job. She really does make the story so much better. Also thanks to Gredelina1 who talks me through each chapter and helps me get the ideas down.

**_Chapter Five_ **

 

“Who’s Dean?” Wes asked with interest.

“Shut it!” Sam turned away from the man, thinking hard. Dean was here, in town, and apparently Uriel had brought him. He didn’t know what the angel’s motivation was, but it definitely wasn’t in hopes that they would set aside their differences and come out a stronger team. Uriel had no problem driving a wedge between them last time. He’d told Sam to ask Dean what he really remembered of Hell—that hadn’t been to improve their honesty. Whatever it was that had made the angel do this, it was going to cause a lot of problems between Sam and Dean.

It wasn’t the end of the world, Sam reminded himself. If this was the thing that broke him and Dean, it wouldn’t be the end. Sam was still the crux of the apocalypse, so as long as he stayed on path and didn’t kill Lilith, things would work out for the world. Sam could go on alone, taking the hunts they’d taken before when necessary to protect. It wouldn’t be easy for him, he wanted and needed his brother with him, but he could do it. The real fear was what world he would return to when this was all over. Without an apocalypse to end the world, Sam could find his own, personal world ruined. His relationship with Dean, which was just starting to make sense again in the future, could be destroyed.

But what could he do? He couldn’t tell him the truth, not with angels apparently spying on him and ready to whip him back to his correct time in the name of their mission. The only option available to him was to lie, again. He was an accomplished liar, after all, he did it every day as part of his life as a hunter, but he hated to lie to Dean. The first time he had lived through this year had been nearly impossible for him, as he’d been lying to Dean at every turn. The whole point of this was to change things, and yet all he’d done so far was avert Samhain and lie continually to his brother.

He took a deep breath and released it in a rush. “Okay, Cas, you take Wes back and I’ll go deal with Dean.”

“What are you going to say to him?” Cas asked.

“No idea.”

Cas stared into his eyes, searching for something Sam didn’t think he possessed. “You cannot tell him the truth, Sam.”

“I know,” Sam said bitterly. “I’ll think of something. Don’t worry.” As soon as he said the words, Sam realized how stupid they were. What could Cas do but worry?

“Who _is_ Dean?” Wes asked again.

Sam turned away from him. “Cas, get him out of here.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture of solidarity, and then the faint fluttering sound of an angel taking flight.

Sam looked around the ruined restaurant, at the water dripping from the vinyl booths onto the puddled floor, and he sighed. He couldn’t stay here forever, but it was a very tempting prospect. It didn’t matter how long he delayed though, Dean would still be there, waiting for him, probably at the motel, wanting answers and deserving an explanation that Sam knew he couldn’t give.

He had to face him though, so he sloshed across the room to the door.

It was dark outside. It seemed impossible to Sam that so much had happened in the space of so few hours. Thankful that he had left the car at the motel because the more time he had to think, the better his explanation for Dean would be, he trudged back along Main Street. It was entirely possible that Uriel had brought Dean to town merely to hurry along the confrontation, but Sam doubted it. Uriel had to have told Dean something, and until Sam knew what it was, he couldn’t plan how to deal with it.

He felt a presence behind him when he was a couple blocks from the motel, and he turned, hoping for Cas but expecting Uriel. His expectations were met. It was the imposing, dark-skinned angel that walked beside him.

“Uriel,” he spat.

“Sam Winchester,” he said in his deep measured tone. “I have a surprise for you.”

Knowing he should be oblivious to Dean’s appearance, Sam said, “Is it that you’re retiring? Because you could have just sent me the announcement. I could’ve celebrated alone. I don’t need company.”

“So cheery. I wonder if you will be so happy when you see the surprise.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than talking to you.”

Uriel grabbed his arm and twisted him to look at him. His grip was tight, too tight, but Sam allowed no sign of pain to break his stoic expression. “You need to learn a little respect,” Uriel said.

“You need to earn it,” Sam replied calmly. “So far all you’ve done is threaten to annihilate a town. That doesn’t earn you points.”

Uriel’s fingers tightened for a moment and his lip curled back over his teeth in a snarl, but then he seemed to come back to himself. He released Sam and brushed his hand against the front of his suit, as if removing the taint left from touching Sam. “I have been watching you,” he said calmly. “I know what you have been doing, tapping into those foul powers.”

Sam frowned. “I haven’t exorcised anything in weeks now.”

“The power to exorcise wasn’t the only one Azazel gave you. I have been watching you today. I wondered what could have made you come so far alone, leaving your brother behind, and I saw many things.”

Sam bit back a groan. Uriel had either seen the conversation with Wes in which Sam told him he was psychic, or he had surmised as much for himself from the way Sam had honed in on each portion of the hunt.

“Did you tell Dean?”

Uriel chuckled, a low, dark sound. “No. I thought that pleasure belonged you to. I merely told him of my concerns and what I have seen.”

Which meant Dean already knew or would be able to guess soon. He wasn’t stupid. Sam’s mind raced ahead, explanations and excuses and lies rushing through his mind only to be disregarded as soon as they were there. The only option here was some portion of honesty. He had to tell him he was psychic again, and that he had seen the hunt play out before it had happened. The only honest thing in that was that he _had_ seen the hunt play out, only it had been years ago and he hadn’t seen it as much as he’d lived it.

He sped his pace but Uriel easily fell into step beside him again. “You’re not happy.”

“No, I’m not. Having angel dicks interfering with my life will piss me off every time.”

“Ah, but, Sam, I am merely doing my best to help.”

Sam snorted. “Sure.”

The motel came into view and Sam ground to a halt and fixed his eyes on Uriel.      “You coming in? You want to see the fallout for yourself, or are you going to screw off and mess with someone else’s life?”

Uriel considered. “I think I will go. As amusing as it would be to see your grappling excuses for your brother, there are more important things for me to do.”

Sam walked away, not looking back to see if Uriel was following. He heard a rustling sound and knew the angel was gone, or at least gone from sight. For all he knew, the dick could be lurking unseen still. It was the sort of douchey thing he would do.

Sam took a deep breath before he opened the motel room door, bracing himself for the crap storm to come.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to Sam. His head snapped up as Sam entered, but he didn’t turn. Sam could see the tense set of his shoulders and knew he was pissed. He understood it, expected it even, but that didn’t stop him from wishing that Dean had had a different reaction to his arrival.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

Dean didn’t even twitch.

“What are you doing here?”

“Thought I should check in,” Dean said in a low, tense voice. He stood and turned slowly. The moment seemed to last forever as more of Dean became visible and his fury was exposed. “Wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Sam wanted to flinch back from his rage, but forced himself to stay still. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve heard all about just how _fine_ you are.” Dean’s hands clenched into fists. “Uriel told me.”

“What did he tell you? That I’ve been hunting? Because I have. That I’ve been saving people, too?”

Dean shook his head. “No, he left that part out. What he told me was that you got to the bottom of this hunt in a few hours; running from one place to another like someone gave you a map. He said you knew things about this case that you couldn’t know through any natural way.”

Sam shook his head desolately. “It’s not what you think.”

“Really?” Dean laughed brutally. “See, I’ve been thinking here, had nothing else to do, and I think I’ve worked out what’s been happening. I’ve got to be wrong though, because there’s no way you’ve been hiding something this big from me, is there? You wouldn’t do something that stupid.”

Sam closed his eyes and counted to ten in an attempt to calm himself. He heard movement, and when he opened his eyes, Dean was standing in front of him, too close, in his space. “Tell me you haven’t been hiding this, Sam, _this_ from me!”

Sam stepped back to give himself space. “What do you think I’ve been doing, Dean?”

Dean glared at him. “Don’t do this. For once, just be honest with me.”

If only he could. Things would be so much easier if Dean knew the truth. It would even be okay that he knew about the apocalypse, because his anger over that couldn’t be worse than what he was already feeling toward Sam.

He took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice. “I took this hunt, took it alone, because I knew you’d want answers, and I didn’t want to give them yet.”

“Not telling me anything I don’t already know, Sam,” he growled.

Sam went on. “I didn’t want to give them because I knew how you’d react. I knew you’d be pissed, and I didn’t want to deal with it.”

Dean fixed him with an icy stare and Sam felt the tension in the room increase exponentially.

“I took this hunt because I saw it happen before I even left Bobby’s,” Sam said. “I knew what was going to happen because I had a vision.”

Dean’s fist collided with Sam’s jaw. Sam rocked back and clasped a hand to his face. The pain was bad but the disappointment was greater. Dean had every right to react like this, Sam knew, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Sam opened his mouth tentatively, feeling the burn in his jaw but relieved it wasn’t dislocated. He shook his head, and said, “I get that you’re pissed, but, Dean, this isn’t something I have a choice in. I can’t control what happens to me. I can’t control what I see.”

“No?” Dean huffed a laugh. “I get that, I do. What’s got me pissed is that you’re lying to me about it all. You’re hiding things, things I need to know. How long has this been happening? Did the visions ever stop, or have you been lying to me ever since Yellow-Eyes died?”

“No,” Sam said quickly. “This only started a little while ago, when I was pulling demons. It’s like tapping into _that_ power made the other come back on its own.”

“So the witches?”

Sam nodded. “I knew who they were and what to do to stop them because I’d seen it before. But, Dean, when I saw it, I was too late. Samhain was raised and I had to exorcise him to stop him. I stopped the angels from leveling that town by doing what I did.”

“I know,” Dean said in a defeated tone. “And I’m glad you did, but you should have told me. It’s like…I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Things aren’t right anymore, Sam. You’re hiding this crap from me, crap I needto know about. We’re broken.”

Sam felt a burn of anger in response. They _were_ broken, but it wasn’t only because of him. Dean was hiding things, too, hiding things about Hell and what he’d done there. He was laying all this at Sam’s feet, things he had no control over in the lie, and wasn’t sharing a damn thing himself.

“We are,” he said. “But that’s not all down to me, is it? You’re hiding things, too.”

Dean’s expression became a mask. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“What about Hell?”

“I told you, I don’t remember anything between the hounds coming and waking up in that box. You want me to make crap up so you can feel better? I don’t _remember_ , Sam.”

“Sure,” Sam said sarcastically. “Let’s go with that.”

He didn’t blame Dean for not wanting to talk about it; it must have been awful suffering like he had and then what happened when he’d come off the rack, but for him to lay all the blame for lies at Sam’s feet wasn’t fair. It was hypocritical.

He was suddenly tired, tired of this conversation and this situation. He wanted to be at Bobby’s. He wanted to sleep and drink and do anything that would erase the frustration and hurt he was feeling.

“Look, Dean, I’ve got to get out of here,” he said tiredly. “I’ve created a few problems with this hunt, and people will soon start talking. There’s a particular restaurant owner who’s gonna be baying for my blood. Let’s just get out of here, go back to Bobby’s and take a few days to chill.”

Dean stared into his eyes, and Sam knew what he was thinking. He was weighing up the benefits of leaving this discussion behind, evading Sam’s questions and accusations, against getting some answers for himself. Eventually, he nodded. “Okay. Pack your crap and we’ll go.”

It only took Sam a few minutes to gather his belongings and stuff them into his duffel. He was going to have to drop his fed suit off for dry cleaning when he got back to Sioux Falls. That would be good. It would give them a reason to stay in town at least a couple days before taking on their next hunt.

When he was packed and ready, he made his way out to the car with his duffel slung over his shoulder. He stowed it in the trunk and then slid in behind the wheel. Dean scowled at him and Sam said, “It’s only for a while then you can drive. There’s something I need to check out first.”

They drove across town and came to Audrey’s street. Sam pulled up a few houses away and took in the scene before him. There was a locksmith’s van outside the house, and Sam could see a man fiddling with the door. Watching him with horribly sunburned faces were Audrey’s parents. Audrey herself was sitting on the front steps, her knapsack between her knees and a wide smile in place. Sam watched her for a moment, and she looked up. Catching sight of Sam she beamed and waved at him. Sam returned her smile and waved back.

“Who’s that?” Dean asked.

“Someone I helped today,” Sam said, “someone who made the vision worth it.”

Dean sighed. “Okay. I get it. Visions aren’t all bad. But lying is, Sam. Can you honestly tell me there is nothing else you’re hiding from me?”

“No,” Sam admitted. “There’s more, but I can’t tell you yet. It’s not the right time. There’s still stuff that needs to happen first. But when I can, as soon as I can, I will tell you it all.” He twisted in his seat to look at Dean. “Because when I do, I’m going to need your help.”

                                                                                               xXx

They didn’t stop to sleep on the journey back to Sioux Falls. Sam took the first shift driving while Dean slept in the shotgun seat. At least Sam thought he was sleeping. His eyes were closed and his breathing steady, but he could just as easily have been pretending to avoid talking to Sam again.

Sam had an idea of what his brother was thinking and the dilemma it presented for him. He wanted to know more, to talk about Sam’s visions and the fact he’d hidden them, but Sam was pushing for a Hell talk. The last thing Dean wanted to talk about was that place, so he stowed his own curiosity and stayed quiet while Sam drove. Sam was grateful for it. As much as he wanted Dean to be honest with him and tell him about what he had suffered and done there, he knew it would hurt Dean to have to talk about it. He didn’t want to hurt him, especially when there was already so much more hurt waiting in the wings for him.

When they reached Mid-Montana, Sam stopped at a Gas-N-Sip. It was morning again; he’d driven all night and was exhausted. He climbed out of the car and stretched his arms over his head. Dean climbed out too and made for the store door. “Want anything?” he called over his shoulder.

“Coffee, please,” Sam replied, feeling oddly formal.

He unscrewed the cap and set to refilling the tank for their journey. He watched Dean through the store window as he fetched coffee and queued at the register. When the tank was full, Sam set the nozzle back in place on the pump and screwed the cap on again. He watched Dean as he smiled at the young girl behind the counter, saw the way his head tilted as he spoke and he wondered what they were saying, what Dean was saying to her. He wished for his brother’s ability to turn off the things that were hurting him and turn on the charm. He’d once scoffed at the ability before he realized it was Dean’s defense mechanism for their lives. Things were screwed up as all hell and Dean was worried, but while he could get a smile out of a girl and maybe a little blush, he was in control of something, and that would satisfy him. He was still Dean.

He turned to look out of the window, smiling widely, and Sam looked away. It was probable that he was talking about the car rather than Sam, but Sam’s cheeks still flushed. He wondered if Dean was planning to stay in the town a little longer to allow him to spend some time with Miss Gas-N-Sip. It would be a good distraction for him, and Sam figured it would even be good for him, too, as it would delay his honesty session with Bobby. He would need to be told about Sam’s ‘visions’, too. Bobby’s reaction would likely be more violent than Dean’s had been because he wasn’t going to be diverted with Sam’s own questions the way Dean had been. As for the angels… It was too much to hope that Uriel hadn’t been lurking around listening to every word Sam and Dean spoke in that motel room, which meant Heaven would know. Sam felt physically weighted down by the lies. He wished he was with Cas again, the Castiel of his time who understood what was happening and why; the one who didn’t judge him anymore.

A pair of worn boots appeared in Sam’s vision and someone punched him on the shoulder. Sam looked up, not even aware that he had been standing with his head bowed, to see Dean standing in front of him with a paper cup of coffee extended. “Here,” he said.

Sam took it and thanked him quietly. He climbed into the shotgun seat and adjusted his tall form into as comfortable a position as he could manage. He sipped his coffee and was pleased but surprised that Dean had doctored it for him with milk and sugar, just the way he liked it.

Dean threw himself in behind the wheel and fiddled with the radio for a moment, trying to find a halfway decent station. He settled on a local station that they would probably lose soon that was playing _Bad Company_ , then he turned the key in the ignition and pealed out of the lot, tapping his hands on the steering wheel as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Taking his cue from Dean, Sam slugged back his coffee and then settled down to pretend to sleep. They were both pretending, and Sam was grateful for it. He didn’t want to talk anymore.

xXx

Sam’s pretense became real at some point, and he gasped as he jerked awake from a nightmare. He didn’t remember clearly what he had dreamed of, but he had burned simultaneously cold and hot, and there had been a duet of laughter in it.

“You okay?” Dean asked beside him.

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face, the heels of his hands rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Was it a vision?”

“No, just a dream.”

“Good,” Dean said, sounding satisfied.

Sam didn’t speak anymore. He looked out of the window and saw they were on Rattigan Road - Bobby’s street. He sat up straight and tried to shake the weariness from his head. He had just about succeeded when Dean turned the car off the road onto Bobby’s property. They wound their way through the junkers under the late afternoon light. Sam had slept a long time. When Dean stopped the car beside the Impala in front of the house, Sam sighed and tried to brace himself for more lies, comforting himself with the fact that the lies this time were for the greater good rather than for his own protection and freedom as they had been last time.

Dean was first in the house, and he was the one that called to Bobby. Sam followed him inside, greeted by familiar scents and sights. It was interesting that there was little difference between this version of Bobby’s house and the one he’d left behind in the future. There were more books in the future and the windows had been daubed with sigils that should have kept away angels, but that was all. Bobby’s house was a constant, just the way it had been since their youth.

Bobby was standing at the counter doling out bowls of stew from a large pot. On the table was a plate of bread and cutlery set out for them. Sam guessed Bobby had been forewarned of their return by Dean.

“Nice to see my car back,” Bobby said in lieu of a conventional greeting.

Sam rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. Things I had to do.”

“Want to tell me about them?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah, Sam.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “You gonna tell Bobby?”

Bobby looked between them, a crease between his brows. “What am I missing?”

Sam chewed his lip. “Can’t we eat first?” e was Hwe He was He was starved. He had grabbed road snacks on the way back from Concrete but that was all.

“We can do both,” Bobby said. He set the bowls down on the table at each setting and then sat. Sam imitated him, sitting opposite, but Dean remained standing.

“I didn’t spend the day cooking so you could just look at it,” he said pointedly. “Sit, Dean.”

Sighing, Dean sat down and pulled his bowl over to him. Sam was already spooning up his food, feeling Dean and Bobby’s eyes on him. He was in no hurry to talk, and he wanted to get his meal eaten before he was driven from the room by their accusations and anger. Though they were both entitled to react that way, it didn’t mean he had to stay to face it. He would take the cowardly way out every time.

When his bowl was empty and he had wiped it clean with bread, he pushed back his chair and finally looked up. Bobby was eating, but Dean was merely toying with his food.

“So,” Bobby started. “Some angel appeared and dragged Dean off without a word of explanation to me or him other than to say it was about you, Sam. Now, I can see you don’t seem to be hurt, and I doubt that dick would have cared if you were, so I’ve gotta wonder what was so important to him.”

“He wanted Dean to see what I was doing,” Sam said evasively.

“And what were you doing?”

“Hunting.”

Dean snorted. “That’s it, Sam, hunting?”

Sam sighed and fixed his eyes on Bobby. “I was just hunting, nothing wrong there, but it’s how I got the hunt that’s a little… different.”

Bobby nodded for him to continue.

“I had a vision. When we got back from Ohio, I had a vision of a little girl in trouble. I saw the whole hunt go down before it happened.”

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. “And you took care of it?”

Sam frowned. This wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “Yeah, I took care of it.”

“Then I guess it’s okay,” Bobby said.

Dean choked on a mouthful of coffee. “It’s okay!” he sputtered.

“Yes,” Bobby said pointedly. “I’m not saying I like it, or that Sam shouldn’t have told us what was happening before he left. He should have taken help, but it’s not like he did something _wrong._ He saved people, Dean. Apparently he saved a little girl.”

Dean shook his head incredulously. “Well I guess that’s okay then! Never mind that his using his damned powers again.”

“You’d rather he ignored it and let a little girl suffer?” Bobby asked with a quirked brow.

“No, of course not, but you can’t deny this freaks you out, Bobby.”

Sam looked down at the tabletop. He didn’t know why it was bothering him so much, obviously Dean was freaked, but to hear it spelled out like that made it harder to bear. Then he realized what the problem really was. Dean was reacting like this and he didn’t know the half of it. He was unaware that Sam’s visions were a load of bull and the real problem was that he was sucking down demon blood in order to feed his damned addiction and powers. When Dean learned that, and he would, it would ruin everything between them. No more worries about how Dean was going to react to him in the future when he got back where he belonged; it was how he was going to react now that was the problem.

“The thing I don’t understand,” Bobby said slowly, disregarding Dean, “is that you saw a whole hunt. You didn’t see things that clearly before, did you?”

“No. I always saw flashes and they were always connected to Yellow-Eyes, but…” He shrugged. “I guess the powers are all linked, and when I started training them to exorcise the demons, I kicked the visions into high gear as well.” It sounded feasible to him. He only hoped it did to Bobby as well.

Dean scoffed. “So because you screwed with them, you’re doomed to visions again. And this doesn’t worry you?”

“Of course it worries me, Dean. I don’t like the things that are happening to me, or what I’ve been doing, but I am not going to ignore them just so I can pretend to be normal. I save people.”

“But you’re still lying,” Dean spat and Bobby’s gaze snapped to him. “Yeah, he told me so on the way back here. He’s still hiding crap even though he says he’s going to need our help.”

Bobby looked at Sam. “Care to share?”

“No,” Sam said simply.

“Let me rephrase,” Bobby said. “You’re going to share.”

“I will,” Sam said. “But not till it’s time. There are still things that need to happen first.”

“Like?”

“I can’t tell you,” Sam said apologetically. “Not until it’s the right time. If I tell you now, things won’t work out the way they’re supposed to, and they _have_ to, or all this has been for nothing.”

“All what?” Dean asked.

“Everything,” Sam said. “Just…trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“What have you seen, Sam?” Bobby asked. “It’s a vision thing, right?”

“In a way,” Sam said, getting to his feet. “It’ll all make sense eventually, I promise.”

He turned away, leaving his seething brother and confused surrogate father behind.

xXx

Days passed at Bobby’s, tense days in which Dean barely spoke to him and Bobby tried to pry more information from him. Sam resisted Bobby’s efforts and tried not to care that Dean was treating him like he was a stranger. He guessed he was like a stranger to Dean now. He was hiding so much, perhaps it was better that Dean wasn’t pushing, because he didn’t think he could stay silent forever.

He saw no sign of Cas, not the angel of his time or this present. He thought that Castiel must be oblivious to his apparent returning visions, because if he knew, he’d surely have made the trip to tell him what an abomination he was. He wondered if Dean would tell him when they next arrived. He hoped not.

He understood why Cas hadn’t come, as he was never apart from Dean or Bobby excect when he was sleeping. It was as if they’d made a secret agreement to not leave him alone so they could be there for the next vision when it hit.

He was on the front porch, watching Dean tinker with the Impala’s engine, when his phone vibrated in his pocket with a message. He pulled it out and felt a jolt of shock when he saw the name of the sender. Ruby. He hadn’t given much thought to her recently. It was fortuitous timing though, as he needed a meeting with her before his next hunt. The text said one word and he deleted it as soon as he’d read it. _Thirsty?_

He replied with an address, an empty warehouse in town that they’d used in the past, but he made no effort to leave. She could wait for him for once. He remembered how she’d left him hanging in this time before, left him so long that he’d slipped and fed from another demon, right in front of Dean. That had almost saved the world, that slip. Had he not found a way out of the panic room in that time, he would never have been able to kill Lilith. He had never known who had done it, freed him, but he guessed it was an angel or demon as they were the ones that had been so determined that he be free to kill.

He waited until nightfall before he set out for the warehouse. He told Bobby and Dean that he was going into town, an innocent enough story that failed to convince Dean. He offered to go along, and when Sam refused company he declared that he’d have to walk because _‘I’m not having you duck out on another hunt alone.’_

Sam didn’t mind, even though it would take him an hour to get to the warehouse, because it would give him time to come down from the high of drinking before seeing Dean again. Bobby didn’t say a word as Sam left, pointedly taking nothing more with him than his wallet to reassure them he was coming back. He set a steady pace to town, ambling along in no hurry to face Ruby again. She text him twice more, asking where he was and offering to pick him up, but he refused.

As he walked, he pondered his situation. He needed this blood, he had a mission, but he didn’t want to feed the power of the withdrawal he was going to have to suffer soon. The more blood in him, the greater the hold the addiction had over him and the more he would suffer. He was afraid of that, but not just because of the obvious reasons. Dean and Bobby would know what he had been doing, and they would be so betrayed.

There was nothing he could do though. These mistakes were already made, and he was living with the consequences.

When he reached the warehouse, he took a deep breath before letting himself in through the loading dock entrance. Ruby was waiting for him in the center of the room, tapping her foot but smiling widely. He used to think these smiles were for him, that she cared about him in her way, but now he knew the truth. Each smile was another way she celebrated the fact that her and Lilith’s plan was working. Sam was falling deeper into their trap every time he drank, taking a step closer to starting the apocalypse.

The sight of her turned his stomach. He hated every detail of her. She was the woman who had doomed him. He forced himself to return the smile though, to greet her and to walk towards her as if he didn’t have a care in the world other than to sate his thirst.

“Took you a while,” she said. “Dean playing guard dog?”

“Something like that,” Sam said.

“So,” she said with a leer. “You ready for this?”

Sam nodded. “Yes.”

She bent and drew a blade from her boot then rolled up a sleeve to expose her arm. “Come and get it,” she said as she drew the blade across her skin, making blood well and drip down. “

Sam crossed the room in long strides and grabbed at her wrist, temptation and need overpowering him. He brought her arm to his mouth and fixed his lips over the wound. The blood filled his mouth, rich and thick and sulfuric. He felt the power seeping into him, making his nerve endings twitch and his muscles contract.

Giving into the feeling completely, he sucked at the blood, knowing the need but hating the receptacle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Sammy had a little drink. There is a good reason for it, I swear. Trust me a little longer.   
> Until next time…   
> Clowns or Midgets xxx


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Jenjoremy for the beta job

**_Chapter Six_ **

 

Cas was doing his best to protect the seals he knew the demons had broken last time, but it wasn’t easy when he was forced to remain invisible to his brothers and sisters. So far he had failed to save a single one and was growing disheartened. He knew this wasn’t his real mission—that was to protect Sam while he saved the future—but he had to do something to try.

He hadn’t been able to speak alone with Sam since Concrete, though he had tried many times. It seemed like the young hunter was always accompanied by Dean or Bobby. He had watched the brothers’ confrontation, heard Sam’s purported story that he was psychic, and then he had flinched as Dean had given into his rage and punched him. He worried about Sam’s state of mind. As hard as he tried, he seemed to be bound on course to destroy the bonds of his relationship with Dean. He could only hope that, in the future, when Dean knew the whole story, he would understand. He considered returning to his time, not only to tell Dean and Bobby what was happening but also to test the way Dean was feeling in that time, in hopes of reassuring Sam, but he didn’t. Part of him feared that if he did, there would be no reassurance to be had. It was better to live in optimism than sad knowledge.

He had returned from guarding another now broken seal and arrived in Bobby’s home to find Dean alone. He reached out with his grace and found Sam across town. After taking a moment to look at Dean, to wish he could show himself and explain what was happening to his friend, he took flight again and came down in the aisle of a supermarket. Sam was comparing two cans of fruit and he glanced up at Cas’s arrival. His expression was guarded at first, but then he noticed the lack of tie and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam shrugged and tossed both cans into his cart and set off along the aisle again. Cas fell into step beside him, watching curiously as Sam picked things up and set them into his cart without seeming to pay any attention to what he was doing.

“How are you?” Cas asked.

Sam stopped with a bag of chips in hand and considered the question. “Not good. Dean’s not doing so well with the whole vision thing. You were there for that talk, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I am sorry I was unable to assist, but the secret is…”

“More important,” Sam finished for him. “Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “This is the first time he’s lent me the car to come to town in over a week. It’s like he think I’m going to duck out at any chance and leave him behind.”

“Do you blame him?”

“No,” Sam said quickly. “I’d be the same in his position, but I just wish I could tell him more, make him understand. It’s hard to deal with this distrust when he doesn’t even know the half of it.”

Cas nodded. “This is an impossible situation for you, I understand.”

“Not impossible,” Sam corrected. “Just hard. What’s impossible will be what I return to if I fail.”

They had reached the last aisle and Sam stopped to pick up two six-packs of beer. He set them in the cart and then moved to queue at the register. “So, how’ve you been?” he asked Cas.

“Things have been difficult,” Cas admitted. “I feel impotent in this time. I am imbued with foreknowledge but there is little I can do to make a difference. I have been trying to protect seals, but it’s impossible for me.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I get that.”

Cas stood back as Sam’s turn at the register came. He watched him make idle chat with the woman behind the counter, noting the smile and relaxed set of his shoulders even though he knew Sam was far from relaxed. When Sam was done, he followed him out to the car and helped him load the groceries in the trunk.

As Sam slammed the truck closed, Cas opened the door and sat in the passenger seat. He wanted to make the most of this time alone with Sam to talk, so he would make the journey back to Bobby’s with him. Sam slid in beside him and started the engine. The radio came to life and a man wailed about life in the real world. Sam clicked it off and then pulled out of the parking space and onto the road.

They were a few streets from the store when Sam spoke again. “I saw Ruby.”

Cas immediately understood the implications of those simple words. “You drank.” It was not a question.

“Yes,” Sam said. “Kinda had no choice.”

“Because of the addiction?”

“That’s definitely part of it,” Sam said. “It’s not all of it though. I can’t withdraw yet. There’s still so much to do, and being stuck in the panic room for however long it takes won’t make that any easier.”

Cas understood but he didn’t like it. The longer Sam was taking in the blood, the harder things would be for him in the future. He didn’t want his friend to suffer more than he had to. He gazed out of the window and wished there was a way for him to help it pass. He could think of nothing, even though this time he was a fully powered angel with a connection to Heaven.

“Anna should be escaping anytime now, right?”

Cas’s gaze snapped to him. “Anna?”

Sam smiled wryly. “Fallen angel that tried to kill my parents, remember her?”

“I remember,” Cas said. “I just did not know you would have concerned yourself with her in this time.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Sam admitted, sounding ashamed of himself. “But I figured I should. She’s going to be tortured by angels or demons unless we step in. Besides, it wasn’t like she tried to kill out of spite. She was trying to save the world. I can relate to that.”

“What will you do?”

Sam flipped on the turn indicator and pulled over to the side of the road. He shifted in his seat to look at Cas. “I’m not sure. It’s more than a case of finding her and telling her the truth. She needs her grace to be able to protect herself, and there’s no way I can get that out of Uriel. Even if he wasn’t a turbo charged angel, he’d still be a dick. I don’t think pleading her case will help.”

“No, it would not even help to ask me of this time,” Cas said. “I am still bent under the will of Heaven, even though I am starting to have some doubts.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I’m going to need _you_ , Cas. You’re the only one with a chance of getting it from him.”

Cas frowned. “That would risk him seeing me.”

“Yeah, I thought about that.” Sam looked apologetic. “I figure he’s going to have to die.”

Cas flinched. “You want me to kill him?”

“Don’t you want to?” Sam asked. “Be honest. In this time he’s killing your family, right? Surely that’s as good a reason as any for him to die.”

“You might be right,” Cas said slowly. He hadn’t given Uriel much thought other than as an opponent to their plan. He realized he’d been a fool. He’d been attempting to protect seals when what he should have been doing was protecting his brothers and sisters. Killing Uriel would serve that purpose. It would not be the first time he had ended another angel’s life. In the battle against Raphael, he had been forced to fight many angels, and some had been killed. “Yes. You are right. Uriel must die.”

Sam smiled, satisfied. “Good.”

xXx

Sam didn’t know why exactly he hadn’t told Cas his whole plan. He only knew that when he had spoken of addiction and withdrawal, there had been a small voice inside him that had told him to remain silent. Cas didn’t need to know yet. Sam didn’t think he would try to stop him, but he didn’t want to risk it. Whatever happened, Sam’s plan must come to fruition. He _would_ kill Alastair. For that, he needed demon blood.

He owed it to Dean to end Alastair. The demon had tortured him, broken him and almost made him a demon. If it weren’t for the angels, Dean would really have been lost to him forever, lost as his soul became corrupted and black.

Sam wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. He had the demon blood in him, he’d taken more than enough from Ruby, but he wasn’t as practiced in this time. He hadn’t exorcised Samhain, and Cas said that was a pivotal moment for him. He hoped that his knowledge of exactly how it had felt last time, what he’d had to do to kill rather than draw, would help. No matter what, he had to try.

Cas left him alone in the car as he pulled into Bobby’s yard. Sam was both relieved by and regretting the absence. It was good for him to have Cas around as he understood and could relate to Sam’s plight, but it was also easier to breathe when he was alone because he wasn’t tensed to control himself all the time to stop himself from letting something slip.

Bobby wasn’t home—he’d gone to meet up with an old hunter friend in Missouri—but Dean was waiting on the porch for him. He ambled down the steps and came to the truck to help Sam unload the groceries. It was so out of character that Sam wondered what his motivation was. It crossed his mind that Dean had been waiting for him to return since he left, aware that Sam might not come back, even though Sam had taken nothing more than his wallet with him, again.

They carried the sacks through to the kitchen and Sam set to unloading them onto the counter. Dean took a beer and sat at the kitchen table, watching him work. Sam felt his eyes on him, making him tense, but he didn’t look around until Dean spoke.

“What’s up with you?”

Sam paused with his back to Dean, a loaf of bread in his hands. This was probably the best moment to get it over with. He stowed the bread in a cupboard and turned to face Dean. “I need to take off.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yeah, there’s things I’ve got to deal with, and I need to go alone.”

“And why the hell do you need to go alone? This is another vision thing, right?”

Sam nodded.

“Then why do you need to do it alone? I already know you’re having them, what else can you have to hide?”

If only he knew, Sam thought. The truth was that he wanted to take this hunt alone not because it was one of the most dangerous they’d ever take or because Cas could be there if Dean wasn’t but because Sam wanted to spare Dean Alastair’s confrontation. He didn’t want his brother to have to face the monster again.

He could tell Dean none of that though. There was very little he could tell him without risking the angels overhearing if they were lurking nearby invisible as he was almost sure they were. He could give them the heads up on where Anna was and the whole plan would be screwed to Hell.

“Please, Dean,” he said softly, “just let me do this my way.”

“No.”

“Please,” Sam looked at him imploringly.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not letting you go anywhere until you tell me exactly what’s going on and why you don’t want me coming with you.”

“I can’t tell you,” Sam said sadly. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Dangerous for who? You or me or whoever this hunt’s _really_ for?”

“All of the above and more.”

Dean shook his head and got to his feet. He moved to the fridge and pulled out another beer. He unscrewed the cap but didn’t drink, merely fiddled with the rim of the bottle for a moment, deep in thought. “Here’s the thing, Sam, I don’t trust you. I can’t trust you while I know you’re still hiding things from me. You said you’re going to need my help, and this could be the thing you need help with. I’m not letting you go off on your own until you give me a real reason to do it.”

Sam chewed his lip, deep in thought. There was something he could say, a name, but it would hurt Dean and Sam didn’t want to do that. It wouldn’t work anyway. There was no way Dean would let him take the hunt alone of he knew Alastair was at the end of it.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I can’t tell you everything you want to know, and I can’t stop you coming, but I can do this.”

He took a knife from the rack. Dean started forward as if to stop him, but he was already running the blade across his palm, drawing blood. He fisted his hand to make it flow faster and then daubed the sigil on the door of the refrigerator. He slammed his palm down and felt the rush of energy pulse through the room. He didn’t know if there had been any angels in the room listening, but if they had been there, they had now been blasted back to wherever that spell sent them.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked, even as he grabbed a cloth from the drainer and pressed it to the wound on Sam’s palm. “What did you do?”

“Angel banishing sigil,” Sam said, hissing between his teeth as Dean pressed down on the wound. He’d gone a bit too deep in his haste.

“And you learned about it how?”

“Vision,” Sam lied. “Any angels in the vicinity will be sent back to their corners for a couple hours at least.”

“Okay, good to know,” Dean said. “But why are you sending the angels back to their corners when they’re not even here, or was that just a demonstration?”

“They might not be here but they could be. Uriel was buzzing around the last week when I was in Washington, and I didn’t have a clue. I don’t want them listening to what I’m going to say now. Dean, the hunt’s for a college student. She’s on the run from demons, but also angels.”

“Hold up! Angels are after her?”

“Yes, and they’re not going to do anything good if they do get hold of her. We have to protect her.”

“But, Sam, if _angels_ are after her, is she really someone we should be protecting? What did she do that put her on their shit list?”

“She did nothing wrong. She’s the victim here. And if we don’t stop them, she’s going to die. These are the same angels that wanted to level a town to take out a demon that I stopped. They’re not the good guys.” Sam’s chest heaved with emotion.

“Okay,” Dean said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to pretend I understand what’s going on, but I’ll help.”

Sam looked hopeful. “You’ll let me go?”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Hell no. I’m coming with you. But I’m going to let you take the lead. And I'm going to memorize that sigil. _And_ I’m going to stitch your damned hand up first. Whoever taught you to handle a knife missed some obvious lessons.”

Sam smiled slightly. “That would be you, Dean.”

Dean sighed. “Oh, well, I can’t always be perfect.” He flashed Sam a wide smile that made Sam think that all wasn’t lost between them yet.

He returned it tentatively. “Okay, but we’ve got to be quick.”

Dean nodded. “Don’t worry, Sammy, we’ll get there in time.”

xXx

Unexpectedly, Sam felt better having Dean at his side as they made the journey down to Kansas. Anna’s father’s church was in a small town just inside the border, and though the journey seemed to last forever for Sam, Dean’s driving cut it down by a couple hours. They didn’t speak much on the way, but it wasn’t the tense silence of the previous few weeks, it was more companionable. Sam didn’t fully understand it, but he suspected that by telling Dean as much as he had and bringing him along for the hunt, he had reassured Dean somewhat. Perhaps it had even been the first step in getting them back on track.

It was a shame it wouldn’t last.

If Sam succeeded and killed Alastair, he would have to go through withdrawal soon and that would ruin any progress he and Dean made. Dean would know the truth about the demon blood and that would destroy things all over again. There was nothing he could do about it though. He had to go through the withdrawal at some point, whether it be now or later, and whenever it happened, he wouldn’t be the only one to suffer.

They were just outside Fort Scott, Anna’s hometown, when the radio switched to static and the engine stalled. Sam knew what was happening, and he cursed it. He should have let things play out the way they were supposed to earlier to avoid this happening.

Ruby was standing in the middle of the road. Her hands were on her hips and she looked tense and alert.

“Demon bitch,” Dean growled when he caught sight of her.

“We need her,” Sam said, though he couldn’t be sure they did yet.

Dean shot him an incredulous look but Sam was already in motion, climbing out of the car and walking toward Ruby.

“What do you want?” he asked as he came to a stop in front of her.

“I need help,” she said. “There’s a girl. She’s in trouble.

“We already know,” Dean said in a bored tone. “Sammy—“

“Heard it from the angels,” Sam said quickly, cutting him off. “We both did. The demons are after her, right?”

A small crease appeared on Ruby’s brow. “Yeah, what did the angels tell you?”

“Just that,” Sam said. “We think we figured where she’s probably hiding, and we’re going to check it out. You want to come?”

“What?” Dean snapped.

Ruby smirked at him. “Sure, Sam, I’d love to come along.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and spun him around. “Are you serious?”

“Ruby, please wait in the car,” Sam said. When she had walked away, her boot heels clicking against the asphalt road, Sam locked eyes with Dean and spoke in a rush. “I know you don’t like her, I know you don’t trust her, but we need her. She’s the only one of us that has a chance of getting Anna away from the demons that are coming for her.”

“Apart from us, right?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. “No, we’re going to be too busy dealing with the demons.”

“Awesome. And you didn’t tell this before, because…?”

“I didn’t want you to come, Dean, remember?”

“And how the hell were you going to deal with the demons that are apparently coming?” Dean asked and then he groaned. “Sam, no, you can’t do this. You said you’d stop.”

Sam could feel Ruby’s eyes on him through the window. He wasn’t sure just how good demonic hearing was, so he dropped his voice to a whisper. “I know what I said, and I promise you I will stop, but there’s a badass demon coming that we can’t deal with any other way.”

“But the knife…”

“Won’t work,” Sam said. “Trust me, Dean, on this if nothing else. We need her help.”

Dean stared into his eyes and then sighed. “Fine. I guess I’m in.”

Sam could tell he hated to say it, that he wanted to argue, but tackling Sam’s foreknowledge required more argument than he currently had in him.

Sam strode back to the car and climbed into the shotgun seat. Ruby leaned forward to rest her elbows on the back on the bench seat and looked at Sam as Dean slid in beside him. “You seem awful boned up on the knowledge all of a sudden, Sam?”

“I did my research,” Sam said.

Dean started the engine, leaning ostensibly away from Ruby. “Rules of riding in this car, bitch,” he snarled. “You stay quiet, you don’t screw with the radio again, and you do as your damned told when we get to the fighting.”

“Sure thing, Dean,” she said with a sickly sweet smile. “I wouldn’t want to interfere with your uber plan.”

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but Sam spoke over both of them. “Give it a rest, both of you. Dean, drive. The longer it takes us, the less chance we actually have of doing any good.”

xXx

It was almost sunset when they finally pulled up in front of the church. It was exactly as Sam remembered, with its high columns and stained glass windows. Sam climbed out and looked around for any signs of demons or angels, not that he really expected to see any. They were too smart to stand on a street corner waiting for the cavalry to arrive.

Sam made straight for the side door of the church, not wanting to tackle the heavy lock on the main doors. He knelt and got to work on the lock with his picking tools. He felt the tumblers click into place and straightened. “Okay,” he said. “She’s going to be freaked as all hell, so go slow with her. We’ve got to get her trust so we can take care of her.”

Dean nodded but Ruby said, “Why do we need her trust? We can just drag her off. Super-powers, remember?”

“Yes,” Sam said patiently. “But it’ll be harder to keep her hidden from demons if she’s screaming bloody murder the whole time.”

“I can take care of that, too,” Ruby offered.

Dean glared at her. “One wrong move, bitch, and I’ll end you.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out the knife. “A quick prick and you’ll feel nothing else. I promise.”

“Like you’d even get close,” Ruby sneered.

Ignoring them both, Sam eased open the door and stepped inside the church. His steps seemed far too loud against stone floor tiles, and though he thought there was no one else within hearing distance, it made him uncomfortable. His senses were alert and focused and his nerves seemed to tingle with anticipation. Dean and Ruby followed him in and they made for the opposite end of the vast room.

“Where do you think she is?” Dean asked pointedly.

“There’s got to be an attic or anteroom in a place this big,” Sam replied. “I figure we start there, somewhere smaller where she’d feel safe.”

Sam remembered the polished wooden door that hid the rough wooden steps that led to the attic. He started to climb them, but Dean grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, waving the knife as a sign that he should go first. Sam acquiesced, thinking that he would be close enough to protect his brother should the demons already be there. He fixed his eyes on Dean’s back as they walked up the steps and into the attic.

There was movement in the room as they stepped inside, a figure darting behind a screen. Sam was relieved that Anna _was_ there. He didn’t know what he would have done if had they been too early or late to see her.

“Anna,” he called softly. “We’re not going to hurt you. We’re here to help. My name’s Sam, and this is my brother, Dean.”

“Sam? Not Sam Winchester,” she said, still not revealing herself.

Sam nodded at Dean to speak up. “Yeah, this is Sam and I’m Dean.”

“Dean Winchester,” she breathed. “My God.”

Sam shot a look at Dean and saw he looked confused and maybe a little annoyed. Perhaps Sam should have told him a little more.

A flash of red hair appeared around the corner of the screen and Anna let out a soft shriek.”Her face! What’s wrong with her face?”

Sam had forgotten about Ruby, who was looking suitably pissed at the reaction.

“It’s okay,” he said. “She’s here to help.”

Dean mumbled his disagreement, but Sam ignored him.

“So, we’ve found her,” Ruby said. “Can we get out of here now? Somewhere a little safer and a lot farther away, perhaps.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. He looked at Dean. “You need to take her to Bobby’s. The panic room’s the safest place for her.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “And I’d do that alone, because?”

Sam shook his head. He couldn’t have this argument again. He turned to Ruby instead. “Can you do it?”

Ruby nodded. “Take our pretty little friend to safety? No worries. What are you going to do though?”

Sam glanced over her shoulder at the statue that was not yet crying blood. “I’m going to give you time to get away.”

He clenched and stretched the hand that Dean had sewn, making the stitches pull and the wound trickle blood. He pumped his fist, getting it flowing again and then daubed the sigil on the wall.

“You know this screams suicide mission, right?” Ruby asked, the tension in her tone belying the easy words.

“It’s not,” Sam said. “It’s the only way. Now go!”

Ruby marched across the room and grabbed Anna’s hand, though she scrabbled to get away. A moment later, they were gone.

“Sam,” Dean snapped. “What the hell’s happening?”

It was too late. The stature was weeping blood. He heard the footsteps on the stairs and he tried to shove Dean behind him. Dean pushed him away though and stood with him side by side as Alastair walked through the door.

He didn’t say a word. He just smiled and swept a lazy arm through the air. Sam was thrust backward, unable to resist the force pressing against him.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, but there was nothing he could do as his brother’s back hit the stained glass window and it smashed around him. Sam felt a moment of weightlessness and then he fell. He hit the concrete sidewalk with force and he heard sick cracking sounds over the meaty impact.

He was in motion again before he had even drawn a breath. He stumbled as he attempted to run to the side door again. His ribs burned and he guessed a few were broken, and he could also feel blood dripping down his back where glass had pierced him. It was going to be a long painful night as Dean plucked the glass from his wounds – that was if they survived. He was very aware that survival was not a certainty at this point.

As his body became accustomed to the pain, he was able to speed his pace. He dashed through the church again and up the stairs.

Dean was pinned against a wooden ceiling support with blood dripping from his lip and Alastair gripping him by the throat. He was speaking but Sam didn’t hear the words. His attention was focused on the fingers squeezing the breath from his brother’s lungs. Dean’s eyes found him, and Sam saw the relief in his eyes. Despite the fact the demon was crushing the life out of him, he was relieved that Sam was okay. Or perhaps he was relieved that Sam was back to help him. Sam wasn’t sure.

He stopped behind Alastair, and drew a deep breath. His hand rose of its own volition. His body remembered this, rejoiced in it, the rush that came with using his powers. Sam felt for the center of Alastair’s twisted and cursed form, the part that had once been a soul, and gripped it tightly. Alastair jerked as if electrocuted, and released Dean. Dean slid to the floor, wheezing as he tried to get breaths through his abused airway.

Alastair turned slowly, and as his face was revealed, Sam saw the smirk on his face. “Sammy Winchester,” he said. “All juiced up and ready to exorcise.”

“Not exorcise,” Sam corrected. “Kill.” He tightened his grip on Alastair and smiled grimly as Alastair’s smirk faded. 

“You don’t have that power. Not yet.”

“You’re wrong.”

Dean was still on the floor, and through Sam could feel his eyes on him, he didn’t turn. He needed to stay completely focused on Alastair. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning his strength, and clenched Alastair’s destroyed center harder. His fisted hand felt like it was gripping that ruined thing, and he tightened his fingers instinctively. He knew it was going to work. He could feel it as surely as if he’d already done it. Alastair was moaning and growling, but it was white noise to Sam. He felt warmth trickle down his upper lip, and he knew he was straining himself, but he didn’t stop. He tightened his grip as hard as he could, and then he felt the rush of release as it happened, as Alastair died. It was like bursting a balloon with his bare hands, so much effort and then emptiness in his hands.

Sam staggered back, feeling a buzzing in his ears that he couldn’t identify. It was like someone was talking to him at a pitch beyond his understanding. He felt lightheaded, and wondered if he was going to lose consciousness. He stumbled toward the wall with the sigil on it, and leaned back. Something was wrong, very wrong, it was his mind. He could feel a splintering there, something breaking.

Then he saw the man in front of him, and he reacted instinctively. He swiped a hand over his bloody lip and slammed it on the center of the sigil. The pulse ripped through the room and Cas was torn away, but the simple effort was too much for Sam. He crumpled to the floor and his head hit the wooden planks hard.

His vision swam and he heard a sound separate to Dean’s voice shouting his name. It was a duet of high and low maniacal laughter. Even as he realized what was happening what he had done to himself, as the darkness swept over him and the laughter echoed around his mind, something else registered: _He wasn’t wearing his tie._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Jenjoremy for the awesome beta job. She fixes my commas, kicks continuity ass and finds the words I didn’t know I needed until they were there. Also to Gredelina1 for all her help getting the ideas out and in a cohesive chapter. And finally to all of you that are reading. Thank you for the support.

Cas knew at once where he had arrived as he hit the floor, even before he opened his eyes. It was the scent of musty books and Old Spice that told him. He opened his eyes and knew then exactly _when_ he had come to. The Dean that he had left had been struggling to get to his brother, crawling across the floor, while this Dean was on his feet with the demon blade drawn.

“Cas!” he gasped. “What the hell happened?”

“Sam,” Cas breathed. “Sam happened.”

“What?”

Bobby grabbed his arm and hauled Cas to his feet. Cas swayed and cursed this weakness. It was always the same when he had been banished. His grace struggled to realign itself after the trauma. It was worse now because he had not only been blasted through space but time, too. He stumbled over to a chair and sat down. He had arrived back in the middle of a meal. Plates of half-eaten food were on the table and there were two open bottles of beer by the place settings.

Balthazar wandered into the room. In one hand he held a book and in the other a glass of whiskey that he sipped with distaste on his face. “Cas, darling, it’s so good to see you.” He seemed completely unconcerned by Cas’s abrupt arrival or obvious disorientation. “How’s things?”

Cas shook his head mutely, both in response to Balthazar’s inappropriate question and in an attempt to clear his head.

“Is Sam okay?” Dean asked, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know,” Cas said soberly.

Dean smacked his shoulder. “What do you mean you don’t know? What’s going on?”

“Haven’t you seen?” he asked in return.

“What? No. Last thing I remember changing was Sam telling me about his ‘visions’.”

Cas noted the scathing tone he used but he had bigger worries than Dean’s reactions in that moment. “Alastair came,” he said.

Dean cursed and his hands tightened into fists. Balthazar’s expression became concerned. “And he expelled you?”

Cas turned to Dean. “You and Sam went for Anna. I arrived in time to see Alastair choking you and Sam returning. I believe he had been thrown from the window. Sam saved you and killed Alastair; that much I saw, but then something happened to him. He seemed…” He tried to find words to explain how Sam had looked, bent over and pale, his hand shaking as it reached for the sigil. “He seemed to have injured himself.”

Bobby didn’t look as worried as Cas would have expected given the circumstances, and as he spoke, Cas understood why. “Getting thrown out of a window will do that to ya,” he said. “But if he got back in time to save Dean, he can’t have been hurt that bad.”

“Cas?” Dean probed in a low voice, and Cas thought he, at least, understood what Cas had been trying to say.

“He is injured physically,” he said. “I could see that, but I fear the greater damage is mental.”

Balthazar nodded slowly, his apparent suspicion confirmed.

Dean sucked in a breath. “The wall.”

“The wall,” Cas confirmed, looking at Bobby who had paled considerably. “I believe he has at least damaged it.”

Dean turned away from them both; he made a circuit around the room and then struck out a fist and slammed it into the wall with a bellowed curse. “Dammit, Sam!”

Bobby’s tugged off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. He took a deep breath, seeming to calm himself, and his hands stilled at his sides. “Okay. So the wall’s been kicked a few good ’uns. What does that mean for Sam?”

Cas glanced at Dean who shook his head; he hadn’t told Bobby of the warning Cas had given him all those months ago. “It means Sam is at risk of losing himself completely. Those memories are destructive. They could lead to insanity among other things.”

“Other things?” Bobby asked.

“He could end up a vegetable,” Balthazar said emotionlessly. “He could be stuck in his head with nothing but memories of the cage. He would be a shell of a man, trapped inside himself until death.”

Dean looked like he wanted to vomit.

“Shouldn’t we have been warned about this before we stuffed the soul back in?” Bobby asked incredulously. “I mean, I knew the wall was there for a reason, but this…”

Cas looked at Dean and Dean swallowed hard. “I knew. Cas told me.” He shook his head dolefully and Cas wondered if he was regretting his choice to go to Death now. “But it was risking that or having the soulless dick running around while Sam’s soul suffered in the cage for eternity. I knew which one Sam would have wanted.”

Bobby stared into his eyes, and Cas waited for the explosion to come. Bobby was not known for controlling his temper, and the look in his eyes proved his anger. He didn’t speak though. He looked at Dean for a long moment then shook his head. “Okay. It’s done. We can’t change anything now. What’s happening to Sam, Cas?”

“Cas?” Balthazar probed.

“I don’t know,” Cas snapped bitterly. “Sam banished me. It’s my fault. I revealed myself when I realized what he had done to himself, and the moment he saw me he used the sigil. I was pulled back here. I don’t know what is happening to him in that time.”

He had hoped that time would have reset enough for Dean and Bobby to have new memories of that time, memories that would hold the key to what was happening to Sam. But it appeared time was still in flux, unaltered and unknown. If only he knew what was happening to Sam, he could plan, he could work out a way to help. Then an idea occurred to him, and he raced from the room.

Dean shouted after him, asking what he was doing, but he didn’t stop. He flung open the door that led to the basement and pounded down the stairs. The panic room door was closed and the heavy latch was in place, but it flung open at Cas’s approach and he ran into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

His hope had been that he would find Sam awake and alert beneath his chains, ready to give an explanation and hope to them. He wasn’t. His eyes were closed and he was almost completely still. The only visible movement was the light rise and fall of his chest. There was a trickle of drying blood that had seeped from his nose and down his face. It stood out starkly against the pallor of his skin.

“Sam!” he said harshly, striding over to the restrained man and hitting his cheek hard. Sam’s head jostled but there was no more sign of life. Cas pulled back an eyelid, opening his eye to a burgeoning amount of light that the pupil didn’t react to. He muttered a curse he had heard Dean employ many times but had never tested for himself. It gave him no satisfaction.

“Is he okay?” Dean asked from the doorway.

Cas turned and saw both men standing there, hands braced on the doorjamb and eyes wide. It looked as though they were barred from entering by their fear. Balthazar swept between them and came to stand beside Cas.

“No,” he said simply. “He is not.”

“He wasn’t like this when I left him,” Balthazar said defensively. “He was awake and chatty.”

“Why did you leave him at all?” Dean snarled. “You were supposed to be keeping watch over him.”

“What could I have done?” Balthazar asked incredulously. “Jump between him and the memories as they came flying at him? This isn’t new, Dean. This is Sam as he was almost three years ago. The damage is already done.”

Cas looked down at Sam and saw the emptiness there. He wondered what was happening within his mind. Was Sam being tortured endlessly by Lucifer or was he just gone? Had the memories of the soul seeped into the mind of this soulless being, or was Sam’s body just broken from what it had suffered before the soul was taken? Either way, it made Cas’s hands want to fist. This was all his fault. He’d been the one to facilitate Sam’s return to the past. He’d not realized what Sam was going to do. If he’d known, he could have warned him. Killing Alastair was too much strain for the wall. He would have been able to save Sam from himself if only he’d known.

Dean came slowly into the room and stopped beside Sam’s cot. He looked down and a frown creased his brow. “He can’t sleep,” he said quietly. “He never did, for months when his soul was gone.”

“I know,” Cas replied. “This isn’t natural sleep.”

“What…? How…?” Bobby faltered.

Cas took a deep breath to center himself and then he said, “I need something from one of you. I need to touch your soul.”

“Oh, clever,” Balthazar breathed but was ignored.

“Will that help Sam?” Dean asked.

Cas shook his head. “Not here in the immediate present, but perhaps in time. I need to return to Sam in the past, to help him. I cannot do it alone, because of the strain of being banished through time has drained my power. If I can touch a soul, it will give me a surge of power. I should be able to return then.”

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. “I can do it again. Wasn’t so bad.”

“No,” Dean said harshly. “I’ll do it. He’s my… It’s Sam.”

Bobby looked like he wanted to argue, but Cas was already unbuttoning his cuff and rolling up his sleeve. Dean sat in the chair by the desk and braced his hands on his knees. “Let’s get it done,” he said.

Cas moved to Dean’s side and pressed the tips of his fingers to his sternum.

“Carefully,” Bobby breathed.

Cas nodded. “Always.”

Dean started out trying to hide his agony, but that soon failed as the pain Cas couldn’t even imagine rolled through him. He bellowed at the top of his voice as Cas’s hand plunged into him, through skin, flesh and muscle to that glimmer of life beside his heart. Cas hesitated, centering himself and making sure not to rush the process despite his eagerness to move quickly back to Sam, and then he moved another millimeter to the soul. It burned bright and hot and pulsed with life. It had none of the damage Sam’s had suffered—it would take more than thirty years of Hell’s torture to damage this soul— so it was something pure and whole. Cas felt the power surge through him as he made contact, strengthening him and making his vessel’s nerves sing, and then he pulled back just as carefully and slowly. As the tips of his fingers left Dean, the man bowed forward, panting.

“Are you okay?” Bobby asked him.

Dean didn’t answer: he looked up at Cas instead and asked, “Did you do it? Did you get enough?”

Cas nodded. “I will return as soon as I can.”

“Good luck, Cas,” Balthazar said, even as Cas disappeared.

xXx

As soon as Cas touched back to earth in the correct time, he searched for Sam and Dean, knowing that to find one was to find the other. They were thirty miles away and he immediately spread his wings and took flight to them.

His nostrils filled with the human scents of medicine, cleaning products, and sickness at the moment of his arrival. He was in a hospital. He had visited a few during his time with the Winchesters, and they were uncomfortable places for him to be. They were all full of people who needed help, help he could give if only he were able to do so without alerting Heaven to his interference. A voice he knew at once filled his ears, murmuring quietly, and a forlorn sight met his eyes.

Sam was lying on a narrow bed with his arms at his sides. He was bare from the waist up and there were small electrodes on his chest that recorded heartbeats to a monitor beside the bed. Thin plastic tubing crept under his nose and hissed softly as oxygen passed through it. There was another tube that disappeared under the skin on the back of his hand, feeding fluids into him. His skin was paler even than the version of him that Cas had left in the future and there were dark circles under his eyes. Beside the bed sat Dean. His skin was equally as pale as his brother’s and his shadowed eyes were red-rimmed. He was the one speaking soft reassurances and pleas to his brother, telling him he was there and demanding that he wake up in the same breath.

Cas hesitated for a moment, unsure of what best to do to help them. Dean couldn’t know he was there, that was too risky, but he was loathe to send him into unconsciousness, as he would know it was an angel that had done it to him. At that moment, there was a soft knock on the sliding glass door to the room and Dean’s gaze snapped up from his brother and a hopeful expression crept over his features.

A middle-aged man walked into the room. He wore spectacles and a somber blue suit and tie beneath his white jacket. He made no introductions, which told Cas this wasn’t his first time meeting Dean.

“Doc, what’ve you got for me?”

“I have the results of the tests we have been running on your brother,” the doctor said. “I have news.”

Cas noted the fact he didn’t say it was good news, and he fixed his attention on the man, too, wanting to know what he had to say about Sam.

“The scans we ran came back clear. There are no signs of a clot or bleed in the brain, which as you know, was our primary concern.”

Dean nodded silently, but no look of relief crossed his face; in fact, the hope had started to fade.

“It’s the brain activity that is… concerning us now,” the doctor said.

“But there is activity,” Dean protested. “I watched as they did the damn test. It was all over the charts.”

“That is true, which is, in a way, good news, but it does not bring us any closer to a diagnosis. The activity is there; there is actually more activity than we expected. Now we are wondering why there is so much. Sam is deeply unconscious. His GCS is only three, and as I explained, that is as poor a score as is possible, but the activity doesn’t correlate with that. His brain is working as if he was fully conscious and reacting to intense stimuli.”

That was one question answered for Cas, at least. Sam was not merely unconscious and at peace; he was trapped inside his mind with horrors that even Cas, who had seen the cage, could barely imagine.

“What does that mean?” Dean asked.

“I do not know,” the doctor admitted. “This is unlike anything I have seen before. I can’t explain it. If I did not know better, if I only saw the test results, I would say your brother was awake and experiencing psychotropic drugs, but his tox screen came back clear for drugs, and, as you can see, he is not awake.”

“So, basically, you’re telling me you’ve got nothing,” Dean said angrily. “I brought him here because you people are supposed to be the experts and you don’t know why he’s in a coma or what to do to help him?”

“I am saying that, at the moment, we’re doing all we can to support him.”

“That’s not good enough!” Dean shouted.

“I am sorry, but until we understand what’s happening to Sam, there is nothing else we can do.”

Dean turned away, his lip curled in disgust. “Go,” he snapped. “Get the hell out of here. I’ll find someone who can actually help.”

“I assure you I am more than qualified,” the doctor said. “I have reached out to my colleagues for assistance, too. We are doing all we can.”

Dean turned back to him, his eyes blazing with fury and his voice a low growl. “Get out.”

The doctor slipped from the room at a fast walk and slid the door closed behind him. Dean yanked a cord hanging from the side of the door and fabric blinds slid shut, concealing the room from outside view. Cas wondered what he was doing, and then Dean spoke and answered his question.

“Castiel,” he growled. “I know you’re hanging around somewhere, screwing people over, but I need your help. Sam needs your help, and you’re going to come or I’m going to—“

There was a rustle as Cas’s past self appeared.

Dean rounded on him. “Took you damn long enough!”

Cas knew he was speaking in broader terms rather than the time it had taken for his past self to reply to his prayer. Dean was always impatient for assistance, but most especially when it came to his brother.

“Fix him!” Dean said, pointing at his brother.

Castiel moved to the bed and looked down, a frown creasing his brow. “What happened to him?”

“Never mind that,” Dean spat. “I’ll explain later. Just do it.”

Castiel touched Sam’s forehead with his fingertips and his frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” Dean snapped. “What’s going on with him?”

“I do not know. His mind – it’s chaotic. This is not a physical injury. This is something new. Something spiritual.”

“What the hell do you… Never mind. I don’t care if it’s physical, spiritual or mineral. Just fix him already.”

“I can’t,” Castiel said dourly. “I don’t understand it.”

Dean cursed. “You’re a damned angel. Miracles are what you do. Now, perform one or you can forget all about me helping you. You fix Sam now or you’re on your own with all the apocalypse crap.”

“You don’t mean that,” Castiel said.

“Don’t test me,” Dean snarled. “I mean that and more. This is because of you. We were in that place because of you damn angels, so you will fix this.”

Castiel scowled at him. “Yes, we know what you have been doing, assisting the betrayer. I assume Sam had a vision again.” There was no mistaking the disgust in his voice.

“Screw you,” Dean snarled. “We did what we had to do to save that girl.”

“She is not a mere girl, Dean,” Castiel started but Dean spoke over him.

“I don’t care what she is!” He pointed at Sam again. “You really think I give a shit about anything but him right now?”

Castiel smiled grimly. “Then this should be easy for you. I will make you a deal. You tell me where to find Anna and I will seek assistance from a higher authority for Sam.”

Cas had watched the confrontation between his other self and Dean, shielded and silent, for long enough. He had to act now before Dean gave up Anna for Sam’s benefit, which would do nothing to help. No angel but him could understand what was happening now, as no other angel had lived through what he had. Dean would make this deal and Anna would die, and it would all be for nothing. He had to act. He glanced regretfully at the form on the bed and made a silent vow to return, and then he spread his wings and took silent flight away from them.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Chapter Eight_ **

****

Uriel was easy to find. Cas merely had to feel for his brother’s strength and signature grace. Curiously, he wasn’t close to the hospital, watching Sam’s predicament and Dean’s distress with glee; instead, he was deep in the Alaskan wilderness, miles away from humanity. Cas made no attempt to hide his arrival as he came to rest beside his brother, and he was noticed immediately. Uriel looked at him, his thick lips curved into a smile. “Has the abomination died already?” he asked.

So they were not unaware of Sam’s predicament before Dean’s prayer. That correlated with Cas’s memories of this time. Even when they didn’t know it, Dean and Sam were under surveillance by angels a lot of the time.

“He lives,” Cas said stiffly.

Uriel clucked his tongue. “Pity. Did you get the betrayer’s location from him at least?”

“No,” Cas replied, a further piece of the puzzle slipping into place. It was more than Cas seizing opportunity; the plan to extort Sam’s predicament had been decided before.

Uriel looked him up and down carefully. “What’s changed, Castiel? You are different.”

“I am,” Cas said, a surge of satisfaction moving through him. “I am not the Castiel you know.”

Uriel frowned. “What did the human say to you?”

“I am more than changed by words. I am changed by time. The Castiel you are looking for is currently with Dean Winchester still, trying to extort knowledge for help that he cannot give. I am the Castiel that leads an army.”

Uriel sneered at him. “What delusion is this?”

Cas wanted to draw his blade, to fight, but the desire to make much of what others had suffered at the hands of this angel was even stronger. As long as he showed no arms, Uriel would let him speak. “I am not Castiel of this time, _brother_ ,” he spat the word. “I have lived years longer than you ever will, and I have seen much.” He paused for effect. “I know what you will do if you haven’t already started.”

Uriel took a step back and then girded himself. “And what do you think I will do?”

“Kill,” Cas said. “You will kill our brothers and sisters. You will serve the demons’ plan for Lucifer.”

Uriel’s blade snapped into his hand and he sidestepped, circling Cas. “You know much, Castiel.”

“I do.” Cas’s blade slipped out as he, too, stepped to the side, starting the dance of battle. “I know more than you can imagine.”

“Is that why you came back?” Uriel asked. “To kill me? Did you break all our laws of time travel in order to end me? What will our leadership think of you when you return?”

“You didn’t listen. I _am_ the leadership in the place of my return.”

Uriel scoffed. “I'm sure Michael and Raphael would disagree.”

Cas smiled. “There is so much you don’t know now and never will, but perhaps I will impart a few secrets before I let you go.”

He jabbed out with his blade, not intending to kill, just to test Uriel’s reactions. Uriel was a little slow bringing his own blade up to shove Cas’s away, perhaps not believing Cas would really dare attack him, and his arm was cut deeply.

He hissed through his teeth and thrust out with his blade. Cas stepped out of its path easily. He was a far more practiced fighter than Uriel now. He had survived more battles than Uriel had ever known.

He continued to circle Uriel, searching for a break in his defense. Their blades clanged against each other as they each struck and parried attacks. Uriel was not as skilled though, and the pain in his arm was distracting him. He had not learned that you must ignore pain during a fight as Cas had.

Cas managed one strike that cut Uriel across the cheek. The other angel hadn’t expected Cas to even try such an underhand blow. But that was another thing Cas had learned: there was no blow too low in defense of yourself. Uriel lurched back, bringing his free hand up to his face, and Cas struck. He stepped forward and slid the blade into Uriel’s chest. It moved through him easily, like a knife through butter. This was the sole reason for the creation of the blade. Killing demons and other monsters was merely a bonus feature; it was made to kill angels.

Uriel fell to the floor with a meaty thud, and snow blew out around him. There was a rush of bright white light, and Cas stumbled back. When he had gathered himself again, he saw the ashy wings painted across the white snow. He took a moment to absorb the sight, another angel dead at his hands, and then he roughly ripped open the collar of Uriel’s shirt and clasped his fingers around the small vial that sat there. He tugged it and the cord broke apart. Cas straightened and stowed the vial of Anna’s grace in the pocket of his coat alongside his tie.

He turned away from Uriel and spread his wings. They crackled with energy and power still from the touch to Dean’s soul. He would need that power to help Sam. He took flight, thinking not of the life he had ended, but the one he hoped to save.

xXx

Cas wanted to return to Sam straight away, to check on him and try to help, but he knew that there was a greater responsibility on his shoulders: Anna. So, instead of returning to the hospital where he friend was suffering, he went to Bobby’s. The main rooms of the house were empty, but Cas could hear raised voices in the basement. He kept himself shielded as he walked through the hall and down the stairs.

The demon Ruby was standing outside the panic room door, barred from entering. Cas felt a surge of hatred at the sight of her. He wanted to smite, to kill, in revenge for her crimes, but he knew he was just as culpable in this time—he had freed Sam from the panic room after all. Also, Ruby’s death would alert Lilith to the fact the angels were not convinced of her innocence. It was just as imperative for the demons to remain unaware of Sam and Cas’s mission as it was for the angels. The demons couldn’t kill an angel without an angel blade, nor could they send anyone through time, but they could take Sam and expel Cas from his vessel. He didn’t know what would happen to him if they did that while he was in this time. It was not worth the risk.

Cas passed the demon, carefully avoiding any physical contact, and walked into the panic room. He was immediately alert as he took in the room, because there was an angel banishing sigil painted on the wall, but he quickly realized that it had already been used, as there was a bloody handprint in the center. Whichever angels had already visited—probably including his former self—had been banished.

Anna was sitting on a chair with her arm resting on the desktop while Bobby stitched her wounds closed. She was looking pointedly away from the sight, but her face showed no signs of pain, so Cas knew Bobby wasn’t using Winchester style means of gritting teeth and bearing it to tend to her.

It was Bobby and Ruby’s raised voices that he had heard. They were still arguing now.

“Leave the girl alone,” Bobby said angrily. “She said she doesn’t know what it is.”

“And _I’m_ just saying that something that gets rid of an angel is worth exploring. Saved our asses there didn’t it.”

Bobby ignored her and spoke gently to Anna. “Do you have _any_ idea why the angels and demons are coming after you?”

She shook her head sadly. “No. I wish I did. But I don’t.”

Bobby sighed. “Don’t worry. It’s not your fault. We’ll take care of you.”

Ruby snorted, and Bobby scowled at her. Before he could say anything to the blond demon, his phone rang and diverted his attention. He snatched it from the desk and flipped it open. “Dean? How’s Sam?”

Cas could hear both sides of the call and he quickly surmised this wasn’t the first conversation they’d had in the wake of Sam’s injury though Dean’s answer. _“He’s the same. Not waking up. Not doing a damn thing. Look, Bobby, I’m sending Castiel over. He’s going to need to take Anna.”_

“He’s gonna what?” Bobby said angrily.

_“Take Anna. I don’t like it either, but it’s the only way to help Sam. He said he’ll get advice from his bosses if I do this, and… Bobby, I don’t have a choice.”_

Bobby sighed. “It ain’t gonna work, Dean. Castiel already came by and Anna did this thing. He was ripped outta here by God knows what.”

 _“She banished him,”_ Dean breathed. _“Dammit. Okay, Sammy said that’d keep them away for a couple hours, so you’ve just got to keep Anna there while he reboots himself or whatever and then keep Anna under control when he comes back.”_

“Are you sure about this? How do we even know we can trust him to do what he says?” Bobby asked.

_“We can’t. But he’s our best shot at helping Sam. The doctors here don’t know shit. I’m not saying I like it, but given a choice between her and Sam, I’ll pick my brother every damn time. Besides, there’s gotta be a reason both demons and angels are gunning for her.”_

“Doesn’t mean it’s a good reason,” Bobby pointed out.

_“What do you want me to do, Bobby?”_

Bobby scrubbed a hand through his beard. “I don’t know. I just know this whole thing feels wrong. We’ve no idea what Sam’s done to himself if the doctors don’t, and I…”

_“Yeah, me too. Look, you just keep her there and safe for now and I’ll do what I can from this end.”_

“Will do. You take care, Dean.”

_“You know it.”_

Dean ended the call and Bobby dropped the phone back to his side, sighing heavily. He looked at Anna and Cas could see how torn he was from his expression.

“What’s happening?” Anna asked quietly.

Cas thought he had heard enough, and Bobby had suffered enough, too. It was time for him to act. His only hope was that he would be able to drive the demon away first. He focused his energy on the huge fan set into the ceiling and it began to thrum even harder and faster, like a giant heartbeat. Bobby and Anna looked around nervously, and Anna asked, “What’s happening?”

Ruby was practically quaking in fear, yet she wasn’t moving yet, so Cas amped up the tension a little by exploding the bulbs of the lights in the panic room and basement.

“It’s an angel,” Bobby said in a tense tone.

“Oh I am done!” Ruby disappeared noiselessly.

Anna’s stood and her hand pounded on the banishing sigil again. Cas made himself visible and stepped forward. “That only works with fresh blood,” he said. “You cannot banish me.”

Anna cringed back and Bobby started. “But you… I thought…”

Cas drew back his influence and the ceiling fan above settled into a gentle rhythm again. The tension in the room didn’t dissipate though, not that he had really expected it to.

“I do not have long to explain, so you will need to stay silent and attentive,” he said quickly. “Anna, you are an angel.”

Her eyes widened and Bobby gaped at her. “She’s a what?”

“An angel,” Cas said. “At least an angel without its grace. She removed it long ago, against the will of Heaven. She fell, the greatest betrayal possible to her family. Anna, do you remember?”

She cringed away from him. “I’m not an angel. I can’t be.”

That answered Cas’s question. He slid a hand into his pocket and withdrew the grace. “This is yours Anna. I would not do this had I any other choice, but it’s the only way to protect you from the forces that are seeking to harm you.”

Her eyes fixated on the grace swirling in the vial. It seemed to trigger something in her, some memory awakened, and she shook her head. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I must,” Cas replied regretfully.

“Please, Castiel,” she begged. “Don’t make me be that again.”

Cas smiled sadly at the confirmation of her memory returning. He didn’t want to do this to her. They had been friends for a long time before she fell, and he understood now what she had fallen for, but he had no choice. Without it, she would die.

She seemed to see the resolution in him, as she said, “Bobby, you should cover your eyes.”

Bobby did as he was bidden and Cas looked at Anna. “I am sorry,” he said, even as he opened his fingers and dropped the grace.

He had a split second in which to act, to get away before the grace pulsed through the room and sent him back to his correct time once again. Before the vial had even hit the floor, Cas had already spread his vast wings and taken flight.

xXx

Sam was in pain. No, not pain, complete agony. He was pinned to an iron rack by his wrists and ankles with thick iron pegs driven through his flesh and bone. Over him two archangels worked with abandon, ripping, slicing and tearing his flesh, leaving him open and raw to the air. His organs were removed and examined one by one before being tossed into a growing pile in the corner. As they worked, the archangels laughed an evil duet.

He screamed and begged for them to stop through a raw throat until they tired of his noise and removed his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, and though he knew there was no need for air in this place, he felt like he was dying all over again. Tears crept from his eyes until they removed them too, leaving empty burning sockets. Though he could not see the archangels then, he could still hear them as they whispered to each other and laughed. He wished for oblivion, but none came. He was trapped in a place with no blessed unconsciousness, only awareness and agony.

When he thought he could take no more, when he thought he would surely lose his mind, they reached the finale of their wicked ministrations. He felt a hand scrabbling in the hollow of his chest and fingers wrapping around his heart. He wanted to beg them to stop, to leave that one piece of him intact, but he had no voice. He couldn’t even scream as they tugged at his heart, tearing it away from artery and valve and plucked it from his chest.

“Have you even seen a heart so dark as this?” the deeper of the two voices asked.

“Never,” the second voice answered. “It is thoroughly ruined. The blood of the demon has destroyed all that was good in it before.”

“Please,” a third voice pleaded. “I’ll never do it again. I’ve learned my lesson. Just let him go.”

Sam knew the voice, it was his own, but how could he be speaking without his lungs or any inclination to talk?

“He’s confused,” Lucifer said, his voice ringing true and familiar in Sam’s ears.

“He doesn’t know,” Michael replied. “Should we let him see?”

“I think so.”

Sam was suddenly whole again. His lungs expanded gratefully at the returning air and his eyes blinked up at the endless space above him. There were no walls or ceilings here. The Cage was metaphysical, outside the rules of reason.

“Look around, Sam, and understand,” Michael said.

Sam looked past the archangels, wanting to see who the voice belonged to. It was him. Sam of the past. He was younger and fewer cares had made their home on his face, even though he looked sickened and terrified now. This was the Sam who had not yet killed Lilith, who had not started an apocalypse. This was the Sam who hadn’t suffered through almost two centuries in the cage. It was the other soul. He looked back at Sam with confusion and terror etched into his young face.

“Do you see?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes,” Sam said. “I see.”

“It’s the blood, right?” the other Sam said. “It’s Uriel. He’s trying to make me see what I deserve for the blood. I swear I’ll never do it again, Uriel!” he shouted to an angel that couldn’t hear. “I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t do it. I’ll stop.”

Lucifer grasped the peg at his right wrist and tugged on it slowly. Sam felt every inch of it as it was removed. He felt it tear through the flesh and rub against the exposed nerves. He howled with the pain which increased as Michael removed the pegs from his ankles.

When he was freed, Sam sat up and tried not to look at the holes driven through his wrists, though they drew his gaze like magnets. He looked at the other Sam instead and tried to smile reassuringly.

“I think it’s story time,” Lucifer said conversationally. “Sam, would you care to tell, well, Sam, what’s happening here?”

Sam grimaced but he knew what he had to do. Though this was all in his mind, twisted memories merging with fear, he thought it could serve a purpose. “I am you, Sam,” he said. “This is a memory in a way.”

“But… I don’t understand.”

“Sammy came to hell,” Lucifer sang. “He took on the big bad Satan and took a trip downstairs.”

“You’re missing the best part of the story,” Michael chided. “Before that, he almost ended the world.”

The younger Sam’s lip quivered. “How?”

“Lilith. She was the final seal. We killed her and it freed Lucifer. The world careened toward the end because of what we did. The only way to stop it was to come here. We let Lucifer in and then dragged him and Michael to the cage.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes,” Lucifer said with glee. “You came here and we had so much fun together. We played all day every day.”

The younger Sam looked devastated. “But…. Dean?”

“He had no choice,” Sam said. “He had to let us do it. It was the only way to save the world.” A tear tracked down his cheek. “He had to let us go.”

“He had to let you go.” Michael said incredulously. “Is that what you really think, Sam, or does it just make you feel better to believe it that way?”

Sam ignored him, desperate to impart his message. “It all happened because we killed Lilith. You can’t do it again. You have to let her go.”

“You say it like there’s a choice.”

“There is,” Sam assured his younger self. “This isn’t real. This is just in our head. Cas will save us from it. He will come and we’ll be okay, but you have to remember this. You have to stop drinking the blood, and you cannot go after Lilith. Let her break the seals, let her live despite what she did to Dean, because it’s better than losing the world.”

“You think Castiel will save you?” Michael asked, sounding amused. “You poor delusional thing.”

“He will save us,” Sam said confidently. “I believe in him.”

Lucifer laughed. “In that case let us not waste this time together.” With a hand at his chest, he pushed Sam back down onto the rack and picked up the iron pegs again.

Within minutes both Sams were screaming for mercy again, but one of them had faith that it would only last so long. His friend would save him.

xXx

When Cas returned to the hospital, Dean had relocated to the chair beside Sam again. He wasn’t speaking to Sam anymore. Instead, he was staring at him as if he could wake him through sheer force of will alone. Cas took a moment to take in the scene, to see the utter desperation in his friend’s face, and then he acted. He stepped up behind Dean and pressed his fingers to his forehead. Dean slumped forward and Cas caught him gently, leaning him back in the chair. His chin touched his chest, and his breaths came easily. Cas thought it was the first remotely decent rest his friend had gotten in weeks if not months.

He knew that revealing himself to Bobby and manipulating Dean’s consciousness the way he had would lead to at least some consequences for their plan, but he judged the risks to be necessary. They would both have to come into the secret now, but it would be better for Sam. He wouldn’t have to lie to his brother anymore. It would be a weight off his mind at least.

It didn’t mean everything would be perfect between them though. Cas now knew why Sam had continued to drink demon blood despite knowing the potential consequences for himself, and it had nothing to do with staving off the withdrawal. It was because he had set his mind on killing Alastair. Now that was done and he would have to suffer withdrawal; he would not be able to hide that from Dean. His carefully constructed house of lies would come crashing down. The thing that worried Cas most was Dean’s reaction. Sam needed his brother now more than ever.

He stepped closer to the bed and looked down at his friend. Nothing had changed in Sam’s appearance expect that he looked paler. The amount of blood he had used to kill Alastair combined with the damage to the wall had weakened him considerably, and he was going to withdraw sooner rather than later. Cas hated the thought.

“I’m going to help you, Sam,” he vowed quietly, and then pressed his fingers to Sam’s temple and prepared himself to rebuild. There was nothing there though. Sam had not just broken the wall – he had crushed it to dust. There was nothing to work with, no defense between Sam’s mind and the memories of the cage.

He stepped back, feeling a wave of remorse and horror for his friend. He didn’t know what to do. There was no way to protect Sam from that trauma now. Even if Death was attainable, it was doubtful he could help either.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed.

Sam made no response. He was unable to; he couldn’t hear Cas where he was.

Cas knew he had no choice but to wake Sam to a new nightmare, but he wished there was another way. He couldn’t leave him within his mind with the horrors of the cage, but to wake him was to throw him into awareness of the withdrawal. It was only knowing that, as bad as the withdrawal would be, it was the lesser of two evils that enabled him to do it. He laid his hand on Sam’s temple and sent a small surge of grace into him.

Sam’s eyes snapped open and he jerked as if electrocuted. The monitor beside the bed began to beep incessantly as Sam’s heart rate climbed, but Cas silenced it with a wave of his hand.

“It’s okay, Sam,” he said gently. “You’re okay.”

“Cas?”

“I am here.”

“Where is here?” Sam looked around the room. “I’m in hospital? What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Cas asked.

“Anna. Alastair. Lucifer. Michael.” He winced. “Me.”

“You crushed the wall,” Cas said.

Sam looked horrified. “Can’t you fix it?”

Cas shook his head. “There is nothing left of it to rebuild.”

A tear tracked down Sam’s cheek. “Oh, God. What am I going to do?”

Cas wished he knew. He would do anything to help Sam, but there was nothing possible he could do. “You will be strong.”

Sam wiped at his damp face. “I can’t bear it. It’s all there. I can remember it all. Cas, help me,” he pleaded.

Cas laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I can’t.”

Sam bowed his head and started to cry in earnest. Cas didn’t know what to say or do for him. He knew he needed comfort, but Cas was at a loss, so Cas did the only thing he could. He moved to Dean’s side and woke him with a swift touch.

Dean didn’t even seem to notice there was a third body in the room. His gaze snapped to Sam and he breathed his name in relief and reassurance.

Sam looked up at his brother and his face crumpled. “Dean, help me.”

Dean couldn’t know what he needed, but that didn’t stop him as he crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed and make his vow. “Of course, I will, Sam. Whatever ever you need. I’ll fix it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jenjoremy for beta’ing and Gredelina1 for helping me to get this chapter written. Thank you all for supporting the story with comments and kudos

**_Chapter Nine_ **

****

Sam was suffering. His head was pounding with pain to the rhythm of his heart and his eyes burned with tears, but the very worst thing was the pain of feeling Dean’s arm around him and hearing his words of comfort, knowing it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. Dean would have to know soon what he had done to himself and the world, and that would destroy this closeness they had now.

Another tear slid down his cheek and another sob broke from him which Dean shushed, his arm over Sam’s shoulders, comfort and shame combined.

“We should leave,” Cas said. “The humans will come to check on you soon and it would be easier if we weren’t here.”

Sam sniffed and took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He tugged the IV out of his hand and peeled away the electrodes on his chest then pushed back the blankets from his legs and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He was shirtless, and he hoped his clothes had been removed rather than cut away. Dean rooted in a locker beside the bed and handed him the shirt he had been wearing that day, or was it days ago? He wasn’t sure anymore. He pulled it on and buttoned it with shaking fingers then attempted to stand. His legs didn’t seem to want to support him, and Dean hurried around the bed to brace an arm under his shoulder to hold him. Again, the touch made Sam feel worse than he already did. How long would it be before Dean cringed away from him? Not long enough, that was for sure.

“Do you wish to collect the car?” Cas asked. “I can take Sam straight back to Bobby’s.”

Dean glanced at Sam and then shook his head. “No. I’ll come pick her up later.”

Sam knew Dean didn’t want to leave him alone with Cas, who he didn’t yet trust, and he appreciated it, but part of him wished Dean had made a different choice. If he had chosen to collect the Impala, Sam would have had a few hours stay of execution.

“Very well,” Cas said.

There was a strange feeling of weightlessness that even after all this time Sam wasn’t comfortable with, and then they were in Bobby’s library. Sam staggered over to the couch under the window and sat down, barely hearing Bobby’s hushed exclamation of his name and worried questions.

Dean tucked a battered pillow behind him and then pushed him back gently to lean on it. Sam sank back with a feeling of something akin to relief. His body didn’t seem like it wanted to support him, and he was grateful for Dean’s help, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. That feeling increased when Dean sat down beside him, so close their shoulders were brushing.

“You okay, Sam?” Bobby asked.

Sam nodded slowly. “I’m fine.”

Dean snorted. “Sure you are.”

They didn’t understand. He _was_ okay. He might be in pain and feeling weaker than he had in a long time, but he was with people he loved and who loved him. They weren’t looking at him with fury or disgust as they would be soon, and that was enough for Sam to feel good.

Bobby turned his attention to Cas. “Okay, that’s one question taken care of, now I have another. What the hell is your part in all this? I saw Anna send you packing, and according to Dean that lasts a couple hours, yet you were back in five minutes. You seemed to have a mighty big change of heart between visits, too. One moment you’re gunning for Anna like she broke the Ten Commandments and the next you’re telling her she’s an angel and dropping some kind of angelic A-Bomb on the floor.”

“I was not the same person on both occasions,” Cas said.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “So there’s two of you?”

“In a way, yes, just as there are two Sams.”

Sam felt Dean’s shoulder muscles bunch beside him and he watched as Dean slowly turned to the side to look at him. “What’s he talking about, Sammy?”

Sam smiled at the nickname and then his features became serious as he tried to explain. “It’s not quite the same. There are two physical Castiels. There’s only one of me, but there’s two parts.”

“Not exactly making anything clearer there, Sam,” Bobby said.

Sam sighed heavily. “Cas, the Castiel you’re looking at, is from three years ahead of now. Me, I’m here physically, this is my body of now, but the soul inside is three years older, too.”

He averted his eyes from Dean, but he could still feel his gaze on him.

“Okay,” Bobby said slowly. “So, uh, why are you here? I mean, what’s the deal with the return trip? You reliving the greatest hits?”

Sam laughed softly. “Not exactly.”

“Didn’t think so,” Bobby said. “This year sure as hell doesn’t make the cut so far.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Dean asked seriously.

Sam didn’t know how to answer. Whatever he said now would be the first step in tearing him apart from two of the only people left in the world that he loved, and he was afraid of losing them. Coward that he was, he wished for just a few more days, even a few more hours, before he had to do that. There was no more time though. He could feel the withdrawal coming, curling its ironclad fist around him, taking what time he had. He had apparently spent all the demon blood he had when he killed Alastair. Soon, he would be shaking and screaming in the panic room.

“We came to repair the past,” Cas said when it became obvious that Sam wasn’t going to answer. “Things in our time are… damaged. We are facing foes that cannot be beaten through our usual methods, and we needed to avert them before I was forced to do something that could go terribly wrong.”

“So this is your fault?” Dean asked. “You screwed up and Sam’s been bounced back to clean up your mess?”

Sam shook his head, knowing it was time to speak up but afraid of what he would have to say. He looked at Cas who nodded slightly in encouragement. “No, Dean,” he said. “This is all down to my screw up.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam took a deep breath, wondering where and even how to begin, and then he faltered. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“First, let me explain what happened to Sam,” Cas said. “Sam killed Alastair.”

“Yeah, that I remember,” Dean said a little bitterly.

Cas spoke over him. “And in doing so, he put tremendous strain on the wall within his mind.”

Dean scowled at him. “Wait…What wall?”

“It was blocking my memories of Hell,” Sam said quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to be heard. “In my time, where we come from, I’ve been to Hell.”

Dean gasped. “Hell?”

“Not just Hell,” Cas clarified. “The Cage.”

“Lucifer’s cage?” Bobby asked. “The thing we’re supposed to be fighting to keep closed while the demons go cracking seals?”

Sam nodded and spoke in a low voice. “It happened. In our time, the apocalypse almost happened. It was my fault; I started it, and so I had to stop it.” He couldn’t bear to say anymore. He hadn’t given them enough to understand fully, but he had admitted his culpability. That should have made him feel better, but it didn’t. He still felt sick with guilt.

“Stop it how?” Dean asked. Sam noted the fact he disregarded Sam’s admission, probably not believing it was true. His faith in Sam was painful to bear, though it was something he’d been striving for most of his life.

“Sam was Lucifer’s vessel,” Cas said, “his one true instrument for the end of the world. When the time came, he allowed Lucifer entry and then overpowered him and dragged him back into the cage. Incidentally, he also took Michael. He trapped himself inside the cage with two angry archangels for almost two centuries.”

“No,” Dean said, and inexplicably he was almost laughing. “There’s no way Sam’d do that.”

“You underestimate your brother,” Cas said a little stiffly.

“I don’t,” Dean argued. “”If anyone can beat the Devil, it’s Sam; I’m not doubting that. What I’m saying is that there’s no way Sam would be able to take Satan to the cage because there’s no way I’d have let him get that damn close in the first place.”                                                                                                                                    

“Dean, you gave Sam your blessing,” Cas said somberly.

“You’re saying it wrong, Cas,” Sam said and then turned his attention to Dean. “It wasn’t like you wanted me to do it, Dean. It went against everything for you. But it happened. I took Lucifer down, and you didn’t try to stop me.”

“No,” Dean said again, still sounding amused. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove here, but there’s no way I let that happen.”

Cas shrugged. “Believe it or not, that’s your choice, but it happened. What matters is what happened to Sam in that time. He was trapped with Lucifer and Michael and they vented their frustration on him every moment he was there. The torture was almost more than you can imagine, and he was greatly damaged. The wall was created within his mind to protect him from those memories. It is those memories that rendered Sam unconscious when he killed Alastair, and they are what’s torturing him now.”

Dean looked at Sam as if searching for a sign of this damage. Sam looked away, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “It’s true, Dean,” he breathed. “It happened.”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly. “Say I believe it, I let Sam do that, why the hell was he there so damn long? There’s no way I’d have let him _stay_ there. What the hell was I doing while Sam was suffering?”

Sam caught Cas ’s gaze and shook his head slightly. Dean didn’t need to know about Lisa.

“I wasn’t there all the time,” Sam said. “Not physically. Cas pulled me out only a little while after I took the dive, but it turned out that he didn’t get all of me. My soul kinda got left behind. That’s why the damage is so bad.”

Bobby, who had been quiet up to this point, spoke. “What does this damage mean?”

“It’s not so bad,” Sam said quickly to reassure them both. “I mean, I remember it all, all that… stuff… but it’s not like it physically hurts me anymore.”

Bobby blew out a breath and shook his head. “What about mentally?”

There were no words to describe it. Sam couldn’t make them understand how it felt to have those recollections bouncing around his mind. It was torture, plain and simple. It made him want to curl up in a ball and hide from the world, but he couldn’t. “It’s not so bad,” he lied.

Bobby looked like he wanted to ask more, but Cas took pity on Sam and spoke up. “The fact is, Sam damaged himself to save the world, and you need to bear than in mind when hearing the rest of our story.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. Tell us the rest. Tell me what was so bad that I’d let my little brother sacrifice himself.”

“The apocalypse,” Sam said again. “The battle. Lucifer walked free because of what I did, and I’m not making excuses, but it was because the angels wanted it, too. There was supposed to be a battle between Michael and Lucifer that was foretold long ago. The angels”—he smiled at Cas —“most of them at least, wanted it. Everyone seemed to think Michael would have won, beaten Lucifer, but they didn’t know he had a backup plan. Lucifer was going to release the Croatoan virus and ruin humanity.”

Dean sucked in a breath. “You mean for real end of the world?”

Sam nodded. “Yes. Do you see now? Why I had to do it and why you had to let me?”

Dean looked into his eyes for a long time and then nodded slowly. “I guess.”

Sam smiled slightly. “It had to be done.”

“Okay,” Bobby said clapping his hands together. “So you two came back to stop it. That’s great and all, but what exactly do we do? ‘Cause we’ve been doing our damndest to stop it already, and apparently we’re going to fail.”

Sam and Cas exchanged and glance and Sam cleared his throat. “It’s me. I did it. Lilith was the final seal, and I killed her.”

“What do you mean she _was_ the final seal?” Dean asked tensely. “You mean she was breaking it, right?”

“No. I mean her death was the final seal. When I killed her, I kicked it all into action. Lucifer was freed and the world went to the toilet from there.” He looked at Dean. “I almost ended the world.”

He had been expecting it for a long time, since his story began, but when Dean lurched to his feet and walked away from him, Sam felt it like a sucker punch to the chest. It was right that Dean was moving away from him, it was fair, but Sam had needed that closeness to get him through the worst of his story. How was he supposed to tell the rest, to tear apart that tenuous bond between him and Dean?”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “And what was I doing while you were off killing Lilith?”

“You were trying to stop me,” Sam admitted.

“No,” Cas disagreed. “You were being held by the angels. There was nothing you could have done.”

“That’s not true,” Sam argued. “When it mattered, he was free. He was at the convent in time to stop me if only I’d listened. If I hadn’t been so hopped up on the blood that I didn’t care about anything but revenge...”

“Blood?” Bobby said. “What’s blood got to do with anything?”

Sam swallowed reflexively, fighting back the nausea born of nerves and impending withdrawal.

“Sammy?” Dean said quietly, staring down at him.

“I… I’ve been drinking demon blood,” Sam said so quietly he was amazed they heard him. As the confession worked out of him, he gained courage. This was his mistake and he would admit it. “Ruby’s blood. I’ve been drinking it to fuel my powers.”

Bobby’s face reddened as he reacted, and Dean’s paled. When neither of them spoke, Sam rambled on to fill the awful silence.

“Since a couple months after Dean went to hell until a few days ago. It gives me the strength to exorcise and kill the demons. It does something to me, makes me stronger, powerful.”

He should have expected it. He shouldn’t have expected Dean to take it as calmly as he had last time, tricking Sam into the panic room with barely a word. If he’d been paying attention to anything but his own clasped hands, he would have seen the punch coming. He wouldn’t have defended himself—how could he?—but he would have looked Dean in the eye as the punch landed on his temple, sending him into blessed, merciful unconsciousness again.

xXx

Cas caught Sam as he pitched forward in the wake of Dean’s blow. He eased him back against the pillow Dean had positioned at his back and glanced over him. He was out cold, but there was no damage that hadn’t already been there.

Satisfied Sam was at least close to being okay, he turned and glared at Dean. “Do you feel better now?”

Dean was massaging his red knuckles. He returned Cas’s glare with force. “He deserved it.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Cas said.

“No,” he admitted. “It didn’t make me feel better. That’s probably ‘cause there is nothing that can make me feel better about Sam turning himself into some kind of vampire junkie.”

Cas noted the use of Sam’s given name. When emotional, Dean usually referred to him as his brother, as if staking a claim made things easier for whomever he was talking with to understand the stakes. It felt to Cas that he was casting aside that claim with the name. Cas was glad Sam wasn’t conscious to make the same connection. He was already suffering enough, and he would soon be suffering more.

The problem was that Dean’s anger was directed at the wrong version of his brother. The one of this time, the Sam who was full of intoxication and arrogance at his abilities, needed the punch. He needed to see the anger and the accusations to bring him from this path. The Sam Dean was angry with now, however, was not that person. He was the one who already knew what a huge mistake he was making but did it anyway for the greater good. He was the Sam who had paid his dues by spending over a century in the Cage, who had gone there willingly for the world. The other Sam was not accessible at the moment though. He was held within Sam, inferior to the soul of the future, damaged but full of knowledge and strength. The Sam of this time hadn’t yet had the experiences that had strengthened him to that extent.

Sam would soon be waking, Cas knew, and before he did, there were things he needed to say and do. He looked at Bobby, sensing he would be the better of the two choices for this conversation but not doubting Dean would make himself heard, too.

“Bobby, there are decisions to be made,” he said. “Sam is going to start the withdrawal process soon, and the very best place for him is here, more specifically in the panic room, but if you cannot bear his presence, I’ll take him somewhere else for the process. Would you object to us remaining here?”

Bobby didn’t even take a moment to consider his answer. “He’s staying.”

“Thank you,” Cas replied.

“Why the panic room though?” Bobby asked. “Is he going to try to escape to get more?”

“No,” Cas said, no trace of doubt in his tone. “ _This_ Sam will not.”

Dean looked a little confused. “This Sam? How is he any different than the Sam that’s supposed to be here? How do you know he’s not jonesing for his next swig of demon bitch blood already?”

“I have no doubt he is. He will not act on that need though. He knows better.” Cas tried to find a way to explain his earlier thoughts about the two versions of Sam. “Essentially, the Sam you see before you now is a stranger to you. He has lived through events and years that have changed him from the man you know now. We intervened at the point of Samhain’s raising. That is when Sam became a different person.”

“Is that supposed to be a defense?” Dean asked. “Because Sam said he took his last swig a few days ago, and that was long after Samhain. If he’s so different, why the hell was he drinking the damned stuff still?”

Cas thought this was a conversation that Sam and Dean should have alone, but at the same time he thought it might broker some understanding from Dean, so he said, “Because of you, Dean.”

“Me!” Dean’s eyes were wide with incredulity.

“Yes, you. Sam knew that Alastair was going to come, and he wanted to be strong enough to kill him. I sincerely believe that is because of you. When we lived through these years last time, Sam harbored immense hate for that demon because of what he did to you. I am sure that, knowing his chance was approaching, Sam made a conscious decision to drink again in order to kill him.”

Dean’s eyes were wary and angry, a contradiction to the emotion Cas expected from him given his explanation. He had hoped it would soften Dean at least a little. Then Dean spoke and he understood.

“What Alastair did to me? What does Sam know about that?”

Cas looked at him sympathetically. “He knows everything. You were a lot more open with Sam last time. The things you suffered and did are known to him.” He looked pointedly at Bobby. “And others.”

For a moment, Dean looked like he wanted to vomit. He swallowed hard though, pushing down the emotion and desire, and nodded. “Fine. Sam knows what happened in the pit, and I get that he wanted to kill Alastair, but that’s no excuse for him starting on the blood in the first place.”

“No,” Cas said. “It isn’t, and I cannot make excuses for that. It is a conversation you need to have with Sam when he is able. He has a story to tell. I don’t think he will attempt to excuse himself, not now, but he will explain.”

Bobby cleared his throat and their eyes snapped to him. Cas could see the confusion and questions in his face and knew Dean was going to suffer through an interrogation at some point soon, but for now he only said, “This withdrawal, if we’re not locking him down to keep him from running, what are we locking him down for?”

“For dual reasons,” Cas said. “One, because it is protected from demons, and I have no doubt that when Lilith learns of his current predicament, she will send her lieutenant to undo all the good we’re attempting to do by freeing Sam and taking him away where he can be manipulated or forced in to imbibing the blood. The second reason is that I thought it would be easier for you both. If he is to remain here, as I believed you would prefer, he would be less… disruptive in the panic room.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Disruptive?”

Cas sighed. “Sam is going to be very unwell in the coming days. Compare heroin withdrawal with a caffeine addict denied coffee and you will get a vague idea. Sam will suffer. He will hallucinate and have psychic seizures that will propel him around the room. He will scream and shout and beg.” Cas shrugged, not impassive but at a loss for a way to adequately explain what was coming. “Sam is going to go through hell. I didn’t think you would want a front row seat to that knowing there isn’t a _single_ thing we can do to help him.”

Sam groaned and stirred. Dean’s narrowed eyes fell on him and he said, “Okay. Stranger or not, reformed or whatever the hell you want to call it, I can’t face him right now knowing what he’s done. I’m going to go pick up the car.”

Cas nodded. He had expected as much. He only hoped that Dean would use the time away to work through some of his anger, because by the time he returned, Sam was going to be in no state to deal with it. Or perhaps he would be so battered and bruised by the withdrawal that he wouldn’t even notice it. Cas hated himself a little for hoping that would be the case.

Sam’s eyes opened just as Dean slammed the door behind him on his way out. Sam blinked blearily and brought a hand up to his head. He looked around and his eyes fell on Bobby for a moment before he fixed his gaze on his knees.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asked solicitously.

Sam shook his head without looking up. “It’s coming on now. I guess it’s time for us to get out of here.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Bobby said. His harsh tone softened somewhat when he continued. “You’re better off here where we can take care of you.”

Sam looked up at him, clearly startled. “You don’t have to do that, Bobby. Cas can take me somewhere else.”

“I bet he can. He can zap you off God knows where and we’ll never see you again if he gets a mind to.”

“I would never…” Cas started, but Bobby spoke over him.

“I don’t know you. Sam might, but the Castiel I’ve had contact with so far has had the boys jumping through hoops while giving them no real answers. Not to mention the fact that you knocked me out first time we met. You got Dean back, and we owe you for that, I’m not forgetting, but I don’t trust you. You might be Cas rather than Castiel, whatever the hell that means, but it’s going to take more than a hour’s talking for me to believe you’re on our side when Sam himself said the angels wanted the apocalypse, especially when you’re sporting a halo, too.”

Cas understood Bobby’s perspective—he _didn’t_ know him, they had never fought together—but it rankled. “Fine,” he said curtly. “Don’t trust me, but you must do one thing for me; do not trust me in this time either. The Castiel you have met before now cannot be trusted. He is still a loyal son and will not stand with you… yet. A time will come when he will, but it is not that time.”

Bobby snorted. “No problem. I distrust most people on sight anyway, angels are no exception.”

Cas was satisfied. He didn’t know what the angels would do when they learned that Sam was coming off of the blood already, but he thought they would act swiftly in one direction or the other. Sam was their one hope at freeing Lucifer. Last time, he had been sent to free Sam from the panic room, and Sam and Ruby had done the rest. This time Cas was sure Sam would remain in the panic room even if he was shown a means of escape, but they had to be careful regardless. He had originally thought that the demons were the greatest risk to their plan, but now he realized that the angels were just as much a problem if not more. He would have to be exceptionally careful and observant in the future.

“If we’re staying, I better get down there,” Sam said. “Things are getting a little… hard.”

Cas could see that. He was not yet sweating and wracked with tremors, but his hands were slightly shaky where they were clasped in his lap. “I will help you get situated.” Cas said.

Sam got to his feet and, after taking a look around the room as if searching for something, he made his way down the stairs.

The cot that Sam was lying on in the future was outside the panic room, leaning upright against the rough brick wall. Cas picked it up and carried it into the panic room. He set it down in the very center, far from anything that Sam might be able to injure himself on. He covered it with a sheet from the bed hanging from the wall and a pillow, ready for Sam if and when he needed it. Sam rooted in one of the chests near the door and pulled out the leather restraints.

“It is not time for them yet, Sam,” Cas chided.

“It is,” Sam said. “It’s better if you put them on me now rather than have to wrestle me into them later.”

Cas didn’t argue, though he wanted to, because this was Sam’s choice. However he chose to handle what was coming for him was his decision to make. He would soon have very little control over anything in his suffering, so Cas let him take what he could now. He merely waited as Sam lay down on the cot and placed his hands at his sides. Cas quietly fixed the restraints in place and looped them around Sam’s wrists and ankles. Sam locked eyes on him as he moved around him, something unreadable in his expression.

“Thanks, Cas,” he said quietly.

Cas frowned in confusion. Why was Sam thanking him for tying him down?

“For staying,” Sam clarified. “For not cringing away.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas replied, “for what you have risked. I promise you I will do all I can to make this as easy for you possible.”

Sam smiled grimly. “That’s nice and all, but you and I both know there’s not a damn thing you can do.” He turned his head and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. “This is my punishment.”

xXx

At first, Cas stayed with Sam. He fed him sips of water and encouraged him to rest while he could. Sam didn’t seem to gain any comfort from Cas’s presence. He turned his head away from Cas and fixed his stare on the door, as if waiting for someone to walk through it at any moment. Cas hoped that he was doing something useful being there, so he stayed as long as he could. Unfortunately, that wasn’t nearly long enough. Only a few hours after strapping Sam down, two hours after Sam last spoke, it started.

One moment Sam was lying on the cot, waiting for his unknown someone, and the next he was staring at a point over Cas’s shoulder, his breaths coming in pants. Cas could stand only five minutes of Sam’s torment at invisible hands, reassuring and knowing he wasn’t being heard, before he slipped from the room like a coward and swung the heavy door closed behind him. It was only minutes later that the screaming started inside the room.

Bobby raced down the stairs at the noise, his favored old pistol gripped in his hand, ready to fight and protect. He skidded to a stop when he saw Cas’s stance—standing outside the door with his arms crossed—and asked, “What the hell’s happening to him?”

“Withdrawal,” Cas said. “He is hallucinating.”

“What? Hell?”

“Quite possibly. He has never spoken to me—or to my knowledge anyone else—of what the process entails for him. It’s easy to imagine though, given my knowledge of the experiences he has had, that Lucifer at least is making a visit. Perhaps Michael, too.”

Bobby shook his head dolefully. “What can we do?”

“There is nothing to do but wait for it to be over. Last time it took two days, this time it will probably be longer.”

“Days!”

Cas nodded. “Last time it was after only one occurrence of drinking the blood, a slip influenced by Famine. The first time he went through this, he escaped in the middle of the process. That is how he was able to kill Lilith. I don’t know how long it would have taken had he stayed.”

“How the hell did he escape?” Bobby asked, his eyes fixed on the thick iron door.

“He had Heaven’s help,” Cas said.

Bobby cursed.

“This time will be different,” Cas said confidently. Even if Heaven did try to intervene, Sam would not let them ruin it all. He would be strong enough to stay in place until help could come. Cas had faith.

xXx

Bobby stayed with them as long as he could bear, but Cas knew when it became too much, and he didn’t comment when Bobby mumbled about food and running the phones and fled up the stairs.

Long hours passed of Cas just standing alone outside the room. At times, Sam would cry out again, and Cas guessed one of the archangels was with him. Other times, he was quieter, speaking to someone who wasn’t there, sounding distressed but not pained. There were also periods of silence but for the rustling of Sam’s clothes as he shifted restlessly.

In was in one of these moments of quiet that Cas heard the distinctive rumble of the Impala’s engine coming along the road and then shifting to the packed dirt of Bobby’s land. He listened as the car door opened and closed and then Dean’s steps crossed the porch and entered the kitchen. Bobby greeted him sleepily, and Dean grunted a response.

“Where’s _Cas_ ,” Dean asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm when he used Castiel’s truncated name.

“With Sam,” Bobby answered.

Dean mumbled something and then Cas heard his heavy tread crossing the room and coming down the steps to the basement, followed by Bobby. As Dean’s sight settled on Cas, his expression shifted into something accusatory and confrontational. “Still here then?”

“I am. I will be here as long as Sam needs me to be.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah, ‘cause what Sam needs now is an angel standing guard. That’ll really help him. Thought you said he wouldn’t try to escape this time.”

“I don’t believe he will,” Cas said. “And I am not here merely as a guard. I am here as his friend. _I_ didn’t leave him.”

Cas felt no regret for the accusation. Dean had been gone hours, longer than it took for him to collect his car, and from the scent of liquor on him, he hadn’t merely spent the time driving. While Sam had been suffering, Dean had been drinking, and though Cas knew he could have done nothing had he been there, it still rankled. This Dean was all wrong. He had less reason to accuse Sam for his failings than he had last time—knowing that Sam had paid his dues—and yet the two times Sam went through this previously, Dean had stayed.

“You wanted me to stay and hold his hand?” Dean asked belligerently.

Cas didn’t bother to answer him. An argument with Dean would achieve nothing other than a further gulf between them, and they were on the same side, even if Dean didn’t realize it.

Inside the panic room, Sam began to shift restlessly again. The cot squeaked as he moved. Cas knew what was coming, as he was aware of the pattern now, but he didn’t warn Dean.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Sam howled with pain. It was a drawn out cry that seemed to seep the color from Dean’s face the longer it went on. As it trailed off into a sob, Dean swallowed and shook his head as if he could shake away the feeling, too.

“It sounds like he’s dying,” he said quietly.

“He isn’t,” Cas said. “That’s not to say he won’t.”

“What d’ya mean?” Bobby asked, pushing past Dean and facing Cas closer than he would usually stand.

“I mean that Sam’s body is under tremendous strain at the moment,” Cas said. “We have feared for his life each time he has gone through this.”

“You mean it could kill him?”

Cas nodded.

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Bobby asked. “Let’s get him out of there.”

“And do what?” Cas asked. “Feed him more blood? Sam would never take it.”

“But…” Bobby faltered.

“Sam made his choice,” Cas said. “He doesn’t want the blood. I don’t believe he wanted it before, but Alastair was too great a foe to be left alive. Now that he is eliminated, there is nothing great enough to make Sam drink again.”

Dean, who had been watching their conversation in stony faced silence up till then, spoke up. “He’d rather be dead than addicted.” It wasn’t a question. It was a confirmation of what he already knew of his brother.

“Yes, this Sam would rather die that follow that path again”

“But if it kills him,” Bobby said weakly.

“I would save him,” Cas promised. “But it would complicate matters further. The angels would know of his death the moment he entered Heaven and they would know another angel brought him back. So much of what Sam and I are doing here is against the will of Heaven’s plan, and if they knew that I or any other angel had turned renegade, their intervention would be swift. My presence here must remain secret.”

One part of Cas’s speech seemed to have stuck in Dean’s mind. “You’d save him?”

“Yes.”

Dean nodded his satisfaction and turned away and walked up the stairs again. Bobby watched him go and then moved to stand beside Cas. He crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the wall. Cas knew he wouldn’t stay long, he was almost asleep on his feet, but he would stay as long as he could, not for Cas but for Sam.

xXx

The sun had risen and set again when something changed other than the phases of Sam’s withdrawal. Cas was standing outside the panic room when he felt another angel’s approach.

Cas had expected this visit for some time, and he only hoped that his repeated warnings and explanations to Dean and Bobby would work when they faced him again. On soundless feet, he hurried up the stairs and into the library, making himself visible as he did. Bobby and Dean were sitting at the kitchen table with a glass in front of each of them and an almost empty bottle of whiskey in the middle of the table.

Dean opened his mouth to speak when he saw him, but Cas pressed a finger to his lips and spoke in a whisper.

“I am coming, the other me, and I am going to have questions. Answer them as best you can but make no mention of me. Understand?”

They both nodded and Cas slipped into a corner and hid himself from sight.

The other Castiel appeared in the middle of the room and forwent a greeting in favor of asking, “What is happening here?”

“Drinking party,” Dean said in a slightly slurred voice. “Want some?”

“No,” Castiel said stiffly. “What I want is the betrayer. Where is Anna?”

Bobby shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Someone knocked me out, and when I come round, Anna was gone. I figured you angels had her.”

“We do not. It must have been the demons.”

“Pretty impressive demon getting in the panic room,” Dean observed.

“Lilith is more powerful that you can imagine,” Castiel said dourly. “Your human methods of repelling and trapping will not work on her.”

“Then I guess it’s game over,” Dean said. “The demons won this round.”

Castiel nodded and then frowned as a howl of agony ripped up through the floorboards. “What is that?”

“That? That’s Sam,” Dean said, blinking blearily in a good imitation of intoxication.

“What has happened to him?”

“That’s a long story,” Dean said. “Grab a seat and I’ll fill you in.”

Castiel made no movement to sit. He merely stared down at Dean who sighed.

“Fine, stay standing. See, here’s the thing, while I was in Hell, doing Hell things, Sam was topside running with a demon. I don’t know exactly how it happened, what she said to him, but Sam went and got himself hooked on a new habit.” He looked at Castiel darkly. “Demon blood. Turns out he’s been sipping down the stuff fresh from a vein, Ruby’s vein to be exact. It’s what you might call the fuel for his ability to pull demons. Neat, huh?”

Sam chose that moment to scream out in pain again.

“Why have you locked him up?”

“Because we’re drying him out,” Bobby said. “Why do you think? We’re getting the foul stuff out of him.”

Castiel shook his head impatiently as Sam’s pain became more and more audible. “You will kill him like this.”

“Know much about it do ya?” Dean asked. “Seen many people dry out from demon blood?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you don’t know what’s going to happen,” Bobby said reasonably. “He could be fine.”

“The man I hear doesn’t sound like he will be fine.”

Dean took a swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Better dead than addicted.”

Bobby nodded his agreement, and though Cas himself knew it was for show and they didn’t mean it, it still made him want to reveal himself to argue against them. He stayed in place though, silent and hidden, as the other Castiel attempted to argue.

“You will lose your brother, Dean, is that what you want?”

“That down there isn’t my brother,” Dean said. “That’s an addict. He hasn’t been my brother since I got out of Hell. He’s been a demon’s bitch. He won’t be my brother again until the damn stuff’s out of him.”

“This is very dangerous, Dean.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean asked angrily. “We both know, but we also know it’s the right thing. Sam isn’t Sam like this. He’s a monster.”

With no warning or word of explanation, the Castiel of this time took flight and left.

For a moment, neither Dean nor Bobby reacted, and then they seemed to come to the same realization at the same time. They both breathed Sam’s name and ran from the room. Cas wasted no time walking; he flew to the panic room directly. Sam was alone though. He was straining against the restraints and crying out alone. Wherever the other Castiel had gone, it was not here.

Dean yanked across the bolt on the door and hurried inside, looking around. He couldn’t see Cas, as he was still shielding himself, and his wide, alert eyes whipped past Cas twice before he shouted his name.

Cas made himself visible and said, “He’s not here.”

“Then where the hell is he?” Dean asked.

“Possibly seeking revelation,” Cas said. “Having failed to persuade you to free Sam, he will go to his superiors for guidance.”

“And what’ll they tell him?” Bobby asked.

“I can’t be sure,” Cas said evasively.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Take a guess.”

“I imagine they will order Sam to be freed,” Cas said. “The timing is not correct, because the seals have not all broken yet, but they will likely keep him somewhere, keep feeding him blood until it is time for Lilith to die.”

“But you said Sam wouldn’t drink again,” Dean said. “He’d rather die.”

Cas looked apologetic. “I don’t believe they will give him a choice, Dean.”

“We need to know,” Bobby said. “If they’re coming for him, we have to move him. Protect him somehow.”

Cas was considering the same thing. He could take Sam somewhere safe and ward it against angels. He could carve his ribs again, blocking him from angels’ senses. He could do that and more to protect him, but it would reveal that there was a renegade angel at work. It would complicate things, but as long as he evaded them, their plan could still succeed. The important thing was that Sam not kill Lilith, nothing else mattered more than that to either of them.

Decision made, he said, “I will follow. Stay with Sam and keep him protected. You know the banishing sigil. If needed, use it.”

He didn’t give them a chance to answer before he spread his wings and took flight away from them.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Chapter Ten_ **

 

As dawn lit the sky above the devil’s trap vent set into the ceiling, Sam felt the last symptoms of the withdrawal leaving him. For the first time in what had to have been days—he had lost track of time in the throes of suffering—he was alone. There was no Lucifer or Michael standing at the edges of his vision, teasing, taunting and tormenting him. They had been there through it all, the cliché angel and devil on his shoulder, but neither of them was a comfort.

Others were missing, too. There was no Dean telling him what a monster he was, how he had ruined his life with his mere existence. John Winchester didn’t loom over him, accusing him of killing his mother. Mary didn’t cup his cheek in her hand and speak softly but bitingly of the mistake going into the nursery that night, the mistake of thinking that, even as a baby, Sam was worth protecting. Bobby didn’t stand at the end of the bed, saying nothing but staring down at him with such disappointment in his eyes that it felt like needles against Sam’s skin. Jess didn’t burn on the ceiling above him, her blood dripping down on his face, his eyes, into his mouth. There were more that had come: Ellen, Jo, Rufus, Andy. Even Samuel made an appearance, the bullet hole shining bright in his forehead, to point out all his wrongs. And Alastair. He came and demonstrated the fine art of torture on Sam again and again. He ripped and tore and sliced into Sam, encouraged and sometimes aided by Michael and Lucifer, to turn Sam into a hollow shell of a person only to be made whole again in time for a visit from someone he loved.

The pain was easier to deal with than the talking. Sam had long years of experience of the cage. Pain was an old friend to him. At least this time he didn’t need to try to hide his suffering for the sake of Adam, not that he ever had been able to really; Adam had always known. The worst part was the talking, worse even that tasting Jess’ blood in his mouth and blinking it from his eyes, because he knew every word was true. He had destroyed Dean’s life. He had killed his mother. He had not been worth protecting. These were things he had known all along; he didn’t need the reminders that tore him apart in ways not even Alastair’s blades could.

But it was over now. He could feel it leaving him. The blood wasn’t all gone. There would always be a trace of it in him, there had been since he was six months old. It had made its home within his very marrow and would always be there, but most of it was gone. It had been drawn from him through what had to have been days of suffering.

Tears of relief slipped from his eyes. It was done. The hardest part… No. That wasn’t true, he realized, not this time. The hardest part wasn’t over; it was still yet to come. He had to face the people he loved with them knowing what he had done.

He wondered if Dean had come back yet, or if he had cut his losses for good. Sam wouldn’t blame him if he had. There was only so much a person could take, and Sam had been pushing Dean’s limits even before his latest confession. At least, if by some miracle Dean had stayed, there would be no need to lie anymore. Dean knew it all now, every crime Sam had committed, every failing and flaw. Sam would never have to lie to him again. That was if he had stayed. Please God let him have stayed.

Sam heard the bolt on the door disengaging and a creak as it opened, and he turned to see which of the people he loved was coming. Cas appeared in the doorway and he smiled gently at Sam. Sam tried to return the gesture, but he didn’t quite manage it. The disappointment that it wasn’t Dean was too great.

“It’s over,” Cas said, both confirmation and assurance.

When Sam spoke, his voice came out as a raw croak. All the shouting had done some damage. “I think so.”

Cas came towards him with steady but slow steps, as if he was afraid of startling Sam. He reached for the restraint on Sam’s left wrist, but Sam tugged it back against his side. He had been ready to get out of here since the moment he arrived, but now he was afraid. Here, he was safe. He was almost alone, and the one person with him seemed to have given up judging him long ago. Cas knew the price Sam had paid, and that seemed to satisfy him. If Sam was freed, he would have to return to the house and face Bobby and perhaps Dean. He wasn’t sure he could do that yet. As much as he wanted to see them, the wounds left from their visits to him in withdrawal were still raw and fresh.

“Wait,” he rasped. “I’m not…” Ready was what he wanted to say, but it felt shameful to admit that to Cas, who expected him to be brave. Cas had been brave. He had abandoned his plan to deal with Raphael and put his trust in Sam to change the future. That had taken tremendous courage. Sam wished he possessed the same courage.

Cas frowned. “It _is_ over, Sam. I can tell.” He reached for the restraint again and unbuckled it then moved onto the others.

When Sam was freed, he sat up slowly, feeling the burn of pain in his back and sides. He hissed through his teeth as he brought a hand to his ribcage.

“No broken bones,” Cas said. “You seized in the night and though you were restrained, you were thrown around the cot a lot. You will be sore.

Sam nodded.

“I can help,” Cas offered when Sam didn’t speak.

“No, that’s okay. It’s better that we keep your angelic interference to a minimum in case the other you comes along.”

“He’s already been,” Cas said. “He came when you were in the throes of withdrawal. He knows what you have been doing. It is his understanding that you were forced in here by Dean and Bobby though. It is better that we keep things as close as possible to how they were last time with regards to the angels.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Sam said. “Did you know before, last time we went through all this, that I was on demon blood?”

“No. I don’t imagine Heaven was oblivious to it, but they never shared that information with me.”

“What will they do now?” Sam asked. “If they knew about the blood, they know that’s what enabled me to kill. How do they think they will kill Lilith this time?

“I don’t know,” Cas admitted. “I tried to follow myself after he was here, but he returned to Heaven, and that is one place I cannot go in this time. There is no way to hide my presence there.”

Sam laughed softly. “No, I guess not. It’s gotta be hard to hide yourself when you’re the size of the Chrysler Building.”

Cas nodded. “Yes, that does make it difficult. We will find a way though. Many of my orders came in the form of revelation last time. No matter their plan, they cannot overpower your will. As long as you are resolved not to kill Lilith, they cannot make you. That is the crux of the apocalypse after all.”

And that was the important thing. Sam would never kill Lilith now. Though to let her live went against every instinct, the need to protect the world was more pressing. She deserved death, if for nothing else than for what she did to Dean. Sam wondered if there was another way to deal with her. To trap her perhaps or to disable her somehow. It wouldn’t be easy, she was the most powerful demon they’d ever come into contact with. Then again, they had beaten the Devil once, so there was hope.

“I imagine you want to clean up,” Cas said.

Sam’s nose wrinkled. He smelled of sweat and sickness, and he would dearly like to shower and wash the feeling of this room and what had transpired within off of him, but that would mean leaving this place. He delayed by asking another pressing question. “Cas, what happened to Anna? Bobby said something about an A-Bomb. Did you find her grace?”

Cas looked somber. “Yes, she is an angel again, I’m afraid. I didn’t want to do it to her, but there was no other choice. She had to be able to protect herself. I found Uriel and killed him and returned her grace to her.”

“Poor Anna,” Sam murmured.

“Yes, but I believe life as an angel is infinitely preferable to what the angels and demons would do if they caught her. She has a chance at happiness now, at least as much as an angel is allowed.” Cas fixed him with a stare. “As do you, Sam. I know you are dreading the immediate future, but remember the future you will return to will be better than the one you left.”

The problem was that Cas could not guarantee that for Sam. If they succeeded, Sam would return to a time in which the apocalypse never happened, but that also meant Sam’s sacrifice never happened. Dean would know what Sam had done, he would remember the blood and betrayal, but there would be no redemption, as Sam never took the dive. What relationship would Sam be returning to? Would he have any kind of bond with his brother at all or would it all have been destroyed?

“Sam,” Cas said gently. “You are going to have to leave this room eventually.”

Sam’s gaze snapped to him and he grinned ruefully. “You’re a lot more aware of human behavior now.”

“Yes. I lived practically human for the year of the apocalypse and I grew to understand you and Dean more than I would have believed possible in the beginning. I know why you’re delaying now, and I understand, but I also know the only way to move forward is to face Dean and let him react for himself. Perhaps what you are dreading will not come to pass.”

Sam knew that he should leave, that eventually he would have to leave, but he wasn’t keen to do it. There were things to do though, so he couldn’t delay much longer. If his vague sense of time was correct, there was a hunt he would have to take soon to protect others, again. He couldn’t abandon that family just because he was afraid of seeing his brother again.

“Okay,” he said, putting his hands on his knees and getting to unsteady feet. “I’m ready.”

Cas nodded his approval. “Good. Do you need me to stay?”

Sam didn’t want to sound like a coward by saying he wanted Cas there, as a buffer and defense, but that was exactly what he wanted. “Is there something you need to do?” he asked instead.

“I would like to return to our time to reassure Dean and Bobby,” he said. “It seems that their memory changes with each event we alter, but I’m not sure at which point that happens. When I left them—after you banished me in the church—they were aware of what was happening in this time. I imagine they are very concerned still.”

“Yeah. Okay. You should probably go see them.”

“Is there any message you wish me to impart to them?” Cas asked.

“Just…” Sam sighed. “Tell them I’m sorry.”

Cas nodded. “I understand, and I will, but I think I can guess their reaction. Sam, there is nothing that happened recently that was within your control. They understand.”

“I sure hope so,” Sam said quietly.

Cas stared into his eyes for a long moment, seeming to be weighing something in his mind, and then he shook his head. “I will return as soon as I can,” he said, and then he was gone with a faint rustling sound and Sam was alone.

xXx

Cas must have told Dean and Bobby that the process of withdrawal was over, as they showed no surprise when Sam walked into the library a few minutes later.

Dean was sitting on the couch under the window with a mug of coffee cradled in his hands and Bobby was at his desk with a couple of books open in front of him.

He looked up as Sam came in. Sam may have been imagining it, looking for what he wanted rather than what was there, but he thought he saw a flash of relief in Bobby’s eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked, eyeing Sam up and down as if searching for injury.

Sam shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

Dean spoke without lifting his gaze from the mug in his hands. “You done hallucinating and crap?”

“Yes.” Sam wished he would look up. He needed to see Dean’s face to have even a clue to what he was thinking. “It’s over now.”

Dean nodded. “Good.”

He looked up now and Sam wished he hadn’t. Dean was a master at poker, because when he wanted to, he showed no emotion. His poker face had filled their wallets multiple times in multiple bars across the country. He wasn’t employing that face now though. His every emotion was painted across his tight eyebrows and pursed lips. He wasn’t angry; that would have been easier to handle as Sam knew it wouldn’t last. He was disappointed, so disappointed that he couldn’t hold Sam’s gaze for more than a moment before he cast his eyes down again.

Sam felt like he’d been kicked in the guts. He could handle almost anything from Dean, but not this. He knew he deserved it, that he’d earned it through his actions, but he couldn’t bear it. He had seen this expression before. Before Dean drove away from Sam, heading to Michael, he had looked at Sam just like this, when he had no faith left in his brother to be strong against Lucifer. When he had been willing to destroy half the world in favor of letting Sam destroy the whole thing. He had given up. And now he had given up again, but this time it wasn’t the world he had given up on, it was just Sam. Just his brother.

Bobby was talking, and Sam tried to listen, but all he could hear was his pounding heart. This wasn’t withdrawal lingering, it wasn’t illness, it was pure pain.

“I’m going to shower” he murmured then fled from the room.

His legs shook as he walked up the stairs to the bathroom, but he wasn’t sure whether it was physical or mental weakness that stole his strength. He grabbed his wash-bag from the bedroom, noting as he did that Dean’s bed was made neatly, not Dean’s idea of pulling up blankets and tossing pillows in place made, but Bobby made. He wondered when Dean had last seen his bed, and where he had been sleeping instead. He shrugged the question off and went into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him as if that could block out everything he was thinking and feeling, too.

He set the water running and stepped inside the stall before the heat had even kicked in. It made him gasp and want to jerk out from under the spray, but he forced himself to stay in some insane attempt to punish himself, as if cold water was any match for him. Then the heat came and he turned it as high as it would go, scalding his skin. It felt good, washing away the sweat and phantom blood that still seemed to coat him. He washed his hair, raking his nails over his scalp. The pain felt good, grounding. It was over, withdrawal was done for the very last time—he promised himself that it would be the last—but the real suffering was just starting.

When he was cleaned even of the blood he couldn’t see but feel, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He dried his hair roughly, tugging at the strands, and then went back into the bedroom. His duffel was sitting on the bed, placed there by Dean or Bobby, as it had been left in the Impala before. Glad of their forethought, whoever it had been, he pulled out clothes and then quickly finished drying before dressing in clean jeans and a shirt. He wished for sweats and a t-shirt, comfortable clothes that wouldn’t rub against the bruises that he could feel even if he hadn’t seen them. There was a hunt to go on though, and he couldn’t do that in sweats. Also, it would enhance the image of him being weak still, and after everything Dean and Bobby had surely seen or heard during his time in the panic room, he didn’t want to look weak anymore, though he felt it. It had been the same the last two times he went through withdrawal. His muscles ached; they were loose and uncooperative to his will after being tensed for so long.

He took a minute to brace himself before going back downstairs, gripping the balustrade rail tightly. He knew as soon as he entered the library that he had interrupted a discussion, and from the resolute look in Bobby’s eyes and Dean’s pale cheeks, he guessed it had been a heated one, possibly with him as the topic – again.

He crossed into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee from the machine. He left it black, not wanting to test his stomach with milk and sugar given his history of nausea following withdrawal, and wandered back into the library. Though he was exhausted and wanted to sit, he remained standing, leaning against the wall. The only free seat was beside Dean on the couch, and he didn’t think he could face having Dean walk away from him because he couldn’t bear his proximity.

There was an awkward silence for a long moment that Sam broke saying, “There’s a hunt we need to take.” Dean and Bobby looked at him with varying degrees of incredulity and he swallowed hard. “Last time I was here, we took on what we thought was a haunting in Nebraska.”

“It wasn’t a haunted house?” Bobby asked.

Sam shook his head. “It was a couple of feral children living in the walls of this old farmhouse.”

“Wow.” Bobby scrubbed his fingers through his beard. “Actual feral children? That’s pretty damn rare.”

“Yeah, we had no idea until it was too late. They killed two people; one of them was their father slash grandfather, and the other was from the family we were trying to save.” Sam sighed. “It wasn’t easy.” He took a deep breath. “The father is dead already, but the new family won’t move into the house for a few weeks so we’ve got time to get in before anyone else has to die.”

“Father slash grandfather?” Dean said in a rough voice. Though his question was directed to Sam, he didn’t look at him. He fixed his gaze on a point a foot away from Sam’s face.

“It was pretty messed up. The old man got his daughter pregnant. She gave birth to twins and apparently killed herself at some point after. The children lived in the walls following her death.”

Bobby looked disgusted. “The things people do. Okay. How are we going to handle this?”

“I think the only option is to kill them,” Sam said. “They were beyond help or reason. If we try to involve the authorities, more people will get killed. They’re just not capable of controlling them.”

“Kill them?” Dean said. “You’re kidding right? You said they were kids.”

“I know,” Sam said defensively. “But you didn’t see what they were capable of.”

Dean shook his head. “Hell, things must really be different in the future if this is your solution. The Sam I know would be doing everything to save lives, not take them.”

“Things are different. Not just for me either.”

“Well, forgive me for not being the one you left behind. I guess an apocalypse changes a man, but I’m not killing two kids whose only crime I can see is killing the sick bastard that fathered them with his own daughter. We’ll find another way.”

Sam closed his eyes, absorbing the barb and accepting it, before continuing to speak. “Okay. You want to try to save them, I’ll back your play, but you’ve got to be on your guard. They may look pitiful, but they’re dangerous.”

“You’ll back my play?” Dean asked with a short laugh. “You think I’m letting you come along?”

“Dean–”

“No chance,” Dean said bitterly. “There’s no way I’m taking you as my backup. In case you haven’t noticed, you can barely walk in a straight line. Not four hours ago you were howling your ass off and being thrown all over the cot by some psychic whatever. You’ll stay here. Bobby will come, won’t you, Bobby?”

Bobby looked apologetically at Sam. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

Sam looked down at the faded carpet, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. He understood their concerns, and he knew he wasn’t the best person to have as a wingman, but it still felt like a punishment to be left behind, another show of just how off the rails he’d gone if he couldn’t even provide backup for a hunt.

“Where is this farm?” Dean asked.

Sam crossed to the open laptop on the kitchen table and typed in the town’s name. It only took a glance at the map for the address to come back to him and he pointed it out to Bobby who was at his shoulder. “They seemed to be holed up in the basement,” he said. “But the whole place was riddled with false walls that they were living in. Be careful. They’re merciless.”

Bobby nodded. “We will. You… get some rest.”

Though his tone wasn’t harsh, it wasn’t exactly soft either. Sam knew he had let Bobby down, too, but he couldn’t help but remember the way he had reacted last time, in the days immediately following Sam freeing Lucifer. The demon pretending to be Bobby had told him to lose his number. The real Bobby had stood by him.

Dean left the room silently and came back downstairs with his duffel slung over his shoulder. He was either following John Winchester’s motto of being prepared or he was planning to make a trip of the hunt. It was still early; they could make the journey there and back and do the hunt easily without having to stay in a motel. Sam guessed that Dean wanted to make it last though, to have time away from Sam. Dean got as far as the door before he turned back and looked at Sam. For a moment he seemed to teeter on the verge of speech, and Sam waited with bated breath, but in the end he shook his head and walked outside without even a word of farewell.

Sam watched him go and wished there was a way to make it easier for his brother. There was one way, but he didn’t think he was strong enough to do it.

xXx

Perhaps it was experience, or maybe luck, but Cas managed to get back to only a day after the time he had left following his banishment in the correct time. He had not expected to find Dean and Bobby relaxed following his last visit, but he had underestimated their tension.

Balthazar was nowhere in sight when he arrived, but Dean and Bobby were in the library, sharing a bottle of whiskey despite the fact it was only noon. With what Cas had seen in the past while Sam withdrew from the blood, he decided it was their default reaction to stress—to drink.

He had barely pulled his wings in at his back and opened his mouth to greet them before Dean was on his feet and stalking towards him with hands tightly fisted. “Where the hell have you been?” he growled.

Cas frowned. Where did they think he had been? “With Sam,” he said dryly. “Where I was needed.”

Dean took a step back and his hands unfisted slightly. “Good. That’s good.”

“How is he?” Bobby asked, concern in his eyes and face.

“Better. He has come through the withdrawal now. He suffered as much as you would expect given the amount of blood in his system, but he was strong.”

Dean nodded, looking satisfied. “Course he was. He always is. You don’t beat the Devil without being strong.”

“Indeed,” Cas agreed.

“How’s he doing now it’s over?” Bobby asked.

“Physically, he is how you would expect. He is weak and tired, but rest will cure that. Emotionally, he’s… vulnerable.”

Dean frowned. “Vulnerable? You mean the wall?”

“What is the last thing you remember of that time’s changed events?” Cas asked.

Dean answered quickly, needing no time to think, as it had been in his mind already. “Alastair dying and Sam getting messed up.”

Cas nodded. “Well, in that time you are not coping with the revelations of Sam’s actions as well as you did the first time. Sam has confessed all now. You know everything about the demon blood, the apocalypse, the cage, and you are not taking it well.”

Bobby cursed and Dean looked guilty. “What did I do?”

“You knocked him out. You left, and when you returned, you seemed to garner no forgiveness for what happened. You were distressed by Sam’s suffering, that was clear and it made me hopeful that all was not lost, but you did not stay with Sam as you have before.”

“Well, I was never exactly holding his hand through it,” Dean said.

“No, but you stayed close to him.”

Dean turned away and raked a hand through his hair.

“It’s a lot for you to take in all at once,” Cas said, attempting to comfort. “And that has obviously had an effect on your ability to cope.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “What matters is that he’s through it now. Dean will have a chance to calm down and they’ll be good again.” There was no doubt in his tone. He had faith in the relationship between the brothers. “How am _I_ handling it?”

Dean turned and looked hopeful. Cas thought he understood. If Bobby was taking it better that Dean, Sam would at least have something of a support network in place.

“You didn’t leave and you didn’t ask Sam to leave,” Cas offered. “You allowed Sam to stay here for the withdrawal process and you were close when you could be. I think you have more understanding of the situation than… well, others.”

Dean laughed bitterly. “At least he’s got someone. It can’t be his damned brother, but he’s got someone.”

Cas sighed. “I believe what matters is not what Sam is feeling now but what he will return to. In that time you are dealing with impossible circumstances and that obviously strains things for you both. He will feel better, I am sure, if I can just reassure him that he is coming back to something better than he is leaving behind.”

Dean nodded and rubbed a hand over his chin. “That’s a no brainer. He’s coming back to better. Even if it doesn’t work, and Lucifer’s cage gets popped, things between us are good. He’s has a clean slate; he knows that.”

Cas smiled, relieved. He could return to Sam with hope and reassurance of a better future. It wasn’t guaranteed that he was coming back to better when it came to the world, but for himself and his small family it would be better. They would be strong together.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Balthazar swept into the room. “Sorry to break up the little love session, but I thought you’d like to know Sam is awake again.”

Dean brightened. “He is?”

“Yes, woke up a few minutes ago. I would have come sooner but I was listening to your little chat and I didn’t want to ruin the mood up here.”

Dean pushed past him and jogged down the stairs to the basement with Cas and Bobby following.

When Cas entered the panic room, he saw Sam was still pinned beneath the chains with the familiar leather restraints around his wrists and ankles. He raised an eyebrow when they filed in. “Howdy.”

“How do you feel?” Cas asked.

“Fine,” Sam said. “For a guy who can’t feel things properly, that was surprisingly painful, like getting hit by a semi truck worth of Hell memories. I thought it was permanent lights out for a while.”

Cas nodded. He had meant physically, but Sam’s words told him more than he obviously intended. Sam without his soul was incapable of feeling the real trauma of what he had suffered in the cage, but the physical strain was powerful, too. It reasserted his faith in the Sam currently reliving the past. He would be strong enough to handle whatever came.

Balthazar sighed a long-suffering sigh. “I must admit, I preferred him unconscious. He’s annoyingly chatty when awake.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a champ for putting up with him,” Bobby said.

“I know,” Balthazar replied seriously.

Cas was enjoying the company of his friend and those that he called family, but he knew he couldn’t linger now they had been somewhat reassured. There was someone who needed his support and reassurance more than Dean and Bobby.

“I should go,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said. “Get back to Sam.”

Cas nodded. “I will return when I am able and when there is need.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Bobby said.

Cas was on the point of taking flight when Dean spoke again. “Cas, make sure he knows, okay, he’s got a clean slate.”

“I will make sure he knows,” Cas vowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started posting a new story yesterday. It’s called Bond of Brotherhood and it’s very different to anything I have written before.   
> Summary: Separated from his brother at age sixteen, Dean makes a new life for himself. When finally reunited with Sam, he finds they're living in different worlds. How can they rebuild what they once had when demons, both literal and personal, attack from all sides?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jenjoremy for the awesome beta job—she really is brilliant—and to Gredelina1 for all her help and support.

**_Chapter Eleven_ **

The library and kitchen were empty when Cas arrived at Bobby’s house again. He peered out the window and saw that the Impala was gone, too. He glanced at the digital clock above the stove and saw that only hours had passed since he’d left. Sam shouldn’t be well enough to be out of the house yet. He needed rest still, he knew that, so what had been important enough to make him leave?

He heard the sound of a booted foot scuffing carpet and then heavy but careful tread coming down the stairs. Sam entered the library a moment later with his duffel slung over his shoulder. He didn’t notice Cas standing in the kitchen as he stopped in the library and looked around. His expression was sad, almost yearning, and Cas needed no more explanation of what he had arrived in time to see.

“Going somewhere?”

Sam visibly started and the duffel slipped from his shoulder onto the floor with a heavy thump. He looked at Cas for a moment, explanations and excuses dancing in his eyes, and then he ducked his head.

“Do you have a destination in mind or is anywhere better?” Cas asked sardonically.

“I was going to tell you,” Sam said quietly.

“No, you were going to wait for me to find out for myself when you weren’t where I expected you to be,” Cas corrected. “Is that the same for Dean, or will you at least give him forewarning about this latest stupidity?”

Sam looked up, his brows coming together and his eyes sad. “It’s not stupid, Cas. I’m doing what needs to be done.”

Cas felt a wave of anger that he tamped down quickly. If he reacted with anger, Sam would return it, and all chances of talking him around would be lost. Sam had more than his fair share of Winchester stubbornness.

He took a deep steadying breath and walked into the library to stand closer to Sam. “Why would you leave?”

Sam raked a hand through his hair. “Because it’s the best thing. Because I need to. Because I’m hurting people being here. Because… he can’t even look at me, Cas,” he breathed.

“Have you given him a chance to?” Cas asked reasonably. “Have you even tried to talk to him?”

“Yes,” Sam said quickly. “When I came up, he and Bobby were here, and I told them about the feral children hunt we needed to take. Other than to say he didn’t want me going along and to rag me out for saying how we should deal with it, he didn’t talk to me and he barely even looked at me. He hates me, and I can’t stay here when he feels like that.”

Cas listened, hearing more than what Sam was actually saying with words. Sam had come out of days of screaming and crying in the panic room and his first attempted discussion had been about a hunt. He didn’t try to reassure his brother or make amends for what he had done—that had to have rankled Dean given the hell the days had been for them all. He had apparently thought it was a good idea to go on a hunt even though he could barely walk in a straight line from sheer exhaustion. Of course Dean had refused him. As for how to deal with the hunt, Dean wasn’t the same man now that Sam and Cas had left in the future. He had a different morality and set of values in each life, especially given his own recent experiences in Hell. Sam had surely advocated killing the children, as that had been the only solution last time. Dean didn’t know what he was facing yet. As for hate… Cas just refused to believe it, especially given the Dean he had last spoken with.

“I don’t believe you,” he said mildly. Sam looked stung, hurt that Cas would say it. Cas continued before the young hunter had a chance to marshal his thoughts into a reaction. “Dean does not hate you. You are displacing your own feelings onto him, and that’s not fair to either of you.”

A muscle twitched in Sam’s jaw. “I don’t hate _him._ ”

“I know, I mean that you are displacing your own feelings about yourself onto him.” Cas sighed. “I didn’t think before I brought you back here of what you would have to deal with. I knew about the blood, but I didn’t consider the triggers of this time, even before the wall came down. You are forced on a minute-by-minute basis to deal with your mistakes all over again. You have to try to correct mistakes you made before, even while you’re in the process of admitting them and seeing how you could have done things differently then. As if that wasn’t enough, you have just had eighteen months of soulless memories returned to you. Everything you did in that time has spilled into your mind, along with the cage. There is so much guilt in there, Sam, so many crimes. It is any wonder you can’t cope? I would hate myself, too.”

For a moment, Cas thought Sam was going to punch him, but Sam did something worse. He turned away and wiped carelessly at the tears pooling in his eyes. He seemed to want to speak, so Cas stayed silent and patient, but every time he tried, he faltered until Cas could take no more.

“I don’t hate you, Sam, and neither does Dean.”

“How can you know?” Sam asked in a choked voice.

“Because I just spoke to him, and the last thing he said to me was a message for you. He said to make sure that you knew you have a clean slate with him.”

Sam looked hopeful for a moment, but then he frowned again. “That’s my Dean though, Dean from our time not now. How do you know this Dean doesn’t hate me?”

“Does it matter if he does?” Cas asked.

“Of course it matters,” Sam snapped. “ _He_ matters. It’s Dean.”

“I’m sorry. I know he matters. What I mean is that this Dean is not the one who counts. The aim of everything we have done and are doing is to create a better future, not past. The things that happen now are incidental. It is what we return to that counts. Besides, I do not believe that Dean in any timeline is capable of hating you. He is angry, that’s undeniable, but he has good cause to be. We threw an apocalypse at him as well as demon blood and your own sacrifice in one go. Can you blame him for needing a while to come to terms with that? Especially what happened to you in the cage?”

“You’re kidding, right? That was the only redeeming thing about what we told him. I screwed it all to hell, but I didn’t get away with it. I paid the price.”

Cas groaned. How was it that Sam, knowing Dean as well as he did, missed this? “That was _not_ the redeeming thing, Sam,” he said with a bite to his tone. “Not for Dean at least. For him, that was his greatest failure. He couldn’t save you from that. He couldn’t stop you. Can you imagine how that must be tearing him apart?”

Sam looked stunned, as if the idea truly hadn’t occurred to him until then.

“Really, Sam,” Cas said impatiently, “you used to know better.”

Sam smiled a little, but then he stubbornly shook his head. “Okay, so maybe he doesn’t hate me, but that’s not the only reason I should go. He can’t even _look_ at me. I make him uncomfortable being in the same room. I should give us both a little time to… work through it, some space.”

Cas’s anger rose again and it made his tone harsher than he intended. “You’re a coward, Sam.” At Sam’s incredulous look he went on. “Not with the big things. I know how brave you are better than anyone given what I witnessed in the cage, but with things like this… Perhaps Dean cannot look at you, perhaps he doesn’t want to be in the same room, but that is no excuse for you running away. I know you are living in an impossible situation. You have come from a place where your crimes are known and atoned for and more importantly forgiven to a place where they are fresh and raw, but that is the price you have to pay for our future. I have seen so many times how strong you are. Show that strength again and stay.”

Sam stared moodily out of the window, biting his thumbnail. Cas could sense in his silence the battle raging within him. He wanted to be away, to have some peace alone, but he wanted to live up to Cas’s expectations of him, too. He wanted to be brave.

After a long time he dropped his hands back to his sides and said, “I can’t. I need to get out of here.”

Cas sighed. “Then I apologize for this.”

Without giving Sam even a chance to resist he reached up and pressed two fingers to Sam’s forehead. The tall man crumpled like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Cas caught him under the shoulders and dragged him over to the couch. He set him down roughly but moved him into what looked like a comfortable position before straightening.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said quietly. “But this is how things must happen.”

He brushed his fingers once more over Sam’s forehead, ensuring that he was in a deep sleep that would last, and then he took flight.

xXx

Cas found Dean and Bobby a motel room in Stratton, Nebraska. Dean was clutching a rag to a wound on Bobby’s arm and cursing under his breath while Bobby tried to slap his hands away, grumbling about how he was fine and could sew himself up. On the table beside them were a spool of thread, a pack of tapestry needles and a bottle of whiskey.

They didn’t seem to hear Cas’s arrival as neither of them looked up until Cas pushed Dean aside and laid a hand over the bloody wound on Bobby’s arm. Flesh and skin knitted together under his touch and when he moved back, there was a clear expanse of skin where the wound had been.

“Well… thanks,” Bobby said a little grudgingly.

“You’re welcome,” Cas replied serenely.

“What are you doing here?” Dean made no attempt to hide the rancor in his tone.

“Is Sam okay?” Bobby asked, giving Dean a sour look as if Dean should have asked that question first.

Cas nodded. “I left him resting.” There was no need to tell them he had left him unconscious against his will. “I came because I thought we should talk.”

Dean started packing the makeshift suture kit in his bag again, turning his back on Cas. “What do you want to talk about? You got some other bomb to drop on us?”

Bobby kept his eyes on Cas, and it was him Cas chose to address. “Sam is planning to leave.”

As Cas expected, Dean spun on his heel to face him. “You mean go back to his time and give us back the real Sam, right?”

“No. I mean he intends to leave you and live alone for as long as our mission takes.”

Unlike Sam, Dean didn’t redden when he became angry. Instead, he paled slightly. The color change was subtle enough that only someone who really knew him would notice. He was paling now, and his hands were clenching into fists. “He’s going to _what?”_ he hissed.

“I believe you heard me correctly. He intends to leave.”

“Why would he do that?” Bobby asked.

“Because he’s a damn coward,” Dean spat.

Cas didn’t like the accusation, despite the fact that it was the same one he’d leveled on Sam only a short while ago. “Sam is brave,” he countered.

“Doesn’t seem like it to me,” Dean said. “He screws us over, screws _himself_ over, lies to us for months, and when it’s time to face up to what he’s done, he runs. What’s brave about that?”

“Sam’s mere presence in this time is a sign of his bravery,” Cas said. “I am not denying he has made his mistakes, we all have, but he is trying to atone for them now.”

Dean didn’t look impressed, and Cas decided it was time for a brutal honesty. “I rescued Sam from the cage, you know,” he said conversationally. “You, Dean, have been to Hell, and so you have some understanding of the myriad of ways there are to draw pain. I promise you the archangels know more. Lucifer and Michael worked in tandem over Sam, two masters of the art in their element, punishing him for what he did, and he barely made a sound.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Everyone screams,” he said, “every single soul.”

Cas knew he was speaking now not of his own time on the rack but the time he presided over other souls. Cas remembered well the sight that had met him the moment he reached the level of Hell that housed Dean, deep in the depths—the Righteous Man standing on his own two feet with a straight razor in one hand and a soul in front of him on the rack. He remembered placing a hand on Dean and dragging him away. He remembered that Dean’s first instinct upon rescue had not been to drop the blade but to cling to it tighter. He also remembered the screams.

He pushed away the memories. “Sam didn’t. He had someone to protect.”

For the first time since Cas’s arrival, Dean didn’t look angry. He looked confused. “Who was there?”

“Michael’s vessel,” Cas said somberly. “He was someone Sam knew, someone Sam wanted to protect, so he did. He protected him from the rack as much as was possible by goading the archangels, and while they tortured him, he fought to remain quiet for his friend’s sake.”

Dean shook his head wordlessly, and Cas could imagine the struggle within him as he tried to imagine the strength that it would take to hold in the screams for someone else.

“Who was Michael’s vessel?” Bobby asked. “It wasn’t…” He cast a glance to the side at Dean.

“It wasn’t Dean in the cage with Sam. It was a young man called Adam; he was someone Sam cared about. You haven’t had a chance to meet him yet."

“Okay,” Dean said, gathering himself again. “Sam was brave in the cage, I get that, but it doesn’t mean he’s not being a coward now. He’s just running away from what he’s done, and that’s the definition of weak.”

Once again, Cas had to summon patience to speak evenly. He reminded himself that Dean didn’t know better. He didn’t understand what Sam was going through simply by being awake now, all the worse because of the time he was living in. “Every moment Sam is here, in this time, is a trial. He is faced with all his mistakes and he is doing his best to fix them, but all the while he’s living with the crippling guilt and fear that he might fail and do it all over again. Think, Dean, you have made some difficult choices in your life and you have done things you are not proud of. How would you feel if you were faced with those choices again?”

Dean had the grace to look away, ashamed.

Bobby, who Cas hadn’t been paying much attention to until then, cleared his throat and spoke in a rough voice. “It would be the most amazing thing.”

Cas frowned. “Yes,” he said slowly. “There is a certain awe that can be gained from this chance, but the cost is…”

“It’s high,” Bobby agreed. “I get that. It’s got to be killing him, but… I never thought. If I could, I’d save her, and not give a damn if I changed everything that came after.”

Cas knew some of Bobby’s history and he assumed he was speaking of Karen, his wife.

“For you, it _would_ be the most amazing thing,” Cas said. “You have only one mistake to correct. Sam has many. Add to that the recent bombardment of Cage memories and the fact he believes he has lost his brother, and—”

“What the crap?” Dean snapped. “Lost his damn brother?” He looked outraged, as if he couldn’t imagine why Sam might be feeling like that.

“Yes. Think, Dean. What reassurance have you given Sam since his confession? You knocked him unconscious and left, and now, according to him, you’re refusing to look at him. What other conclusion can he draw from that?”

“Wait one damn minute,” Dean said angrily. “I don’t know you, I barely know the Castiel that’s flapping around in this time, and I get that you’ve got a few years knowledge of me and Sam that I don’t have of you, but you don’t _know_ us. Sam earned that punch and he knows it. I had to walk away when I did or I wouldn’t have stopped there. You don’t get to drop an apocalypse, demon blood, and time travel on a guy and expect him to be able to just shrug it off without some sort of reaction. Sure things aren’t exactly great between us now, but we’ll work it out. Sam knows I’m not giving up on him, because I don’t, never have.”

“That’s where you are wrong,” Cas said. “You of this time perhaps hasn’t yet, but the Dean that Sam knows best, the one he left behind, does give up. Sam has very clear memories of that Dean walking away from him when things get tough.”

“That’s not fair,” Bobby said reasonably. “How are we supposed to work this out if Sam’s holding things against us? Things that we haven’t even done yet?”

Cas couldn’t help but smile. “Isn’t that exactly what you are both doing? Demon blood is in the here and now, that he has done, but Lilith, Lucifer, the apocalypse, none of that has happened, and yet—”

“And yet nothing,” Dean growled. “You don’t know us. You don’t know what we’re thinking.”

Bobby nodded his agreement. “We’ve been careful, like Sam said, not to talk about the things Sam told us away from you because your younger version might be around listening, but I _do_ know Dean, and I know he’s not fixated on the things you believe he is, because I’m not either.”

“Enlighten me,” Cas said stiffly. “If you’re not fixated on what Sam is yet to do in this time, what are you fixated on that has Dean incapable of looking at his brother?”

Bobby shook his head. “No. That’s not your business. It’s Sam’s, Dean’s and mine. We’ll talk about it when we’re ready and we’ll talk about it together.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s mouth. “You heard the man.”

Cas would have liked to react with anger, but was this not what he had been hoping to gain when he entered this motel room, some understanding for Sam and a chance for them to convince him to stay? He schooled his features into a smile instead and said, “As long as you do talk to Sam, I am satisfied.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Which I’m sure is what we’re both worried about, satisfying you.”

Cas ignored him. “Change your clothes,” he said briskly to Bobby. “If my other self comes he will notice the blood and lack of injury. He might be suspicious of who healed you if not him.”

Bobby nodded. “Can do. What are you going to do?”

“I am going to wait with Sam. I left him unconscious by my hand, but if he wakes before your return, he might leave regardless, so I will keep him there.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you going to say to him?”

Cas merely smiled as he took flight again.

xXx

Sam felt eyes on him even before he was fully awake. His mind filled with horrors of who it could be—Lilith, Lucifer, Walt and Roy ready to kill him again—and he jerked upright, almost headbutting Dean who was leaning over him and shaking his shoulder.

“Whoa, easy,” Dean said, holding his hands up in front of him. “It’s just me.”

Sam took a deep breath as he relaxed back against the couch and tried to collect himself. He was in Bobby’s house. Dean was there. He looked over Dean’s shoulder and saw Bobby and Cas, too. They looked worried, all of them, and he felt like he was missing something. Had he been hurt somehow? He ached, as if he’d taken a beating to the ribs, and he felt weak but… Oh. Demon blood. Lilith. Lucifer. Apocalypse. The Cage. He remembered. He also remembered Cas reaching for him. He’d obviously knocked him out so he could fetch the cavalry.

He suddenly couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, even though he had been hoping for Dean to be able to look at him ever since he woke in the panic room. He looked down at his tangled fingers in his lap instead and tried to calm his breathing.

“We need to talk,” Dean said, his voice gravel and tension.

Sam nodded without looking up. “Yeah.”

Dean gripped his shoulder and gave it a rough shake. “And I’m not having this conversation with the top of your head.”

Sam looked up at Dean. Something was different. He met Sam’s eye without flinching and there wasn’t anger in his expression now. He wasn’t smiling, but then he had no reason to smile. He looked like he was dreading the conversation that was coming but was determined to have it regardless. It was an expression Sam was familiar with.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“Yeah, we’ll get to that,” Dean said. “Drink this first and wake up.” He handed Sam a mug of coffee.

Sam sat up and sipped the perfectly doctored coffee, trying to not squirm under their combined gaze. He wished Cas would go. He had a feeling this conversation was going to be uncomfortable, and he deserved everything they threw at him, but Cas would try to defend him and that would make it worse. Dean would get angry and he’d say crap and Sam would feel like he was having his ass handed to him all over again. He wished he could have gotten away when he had the chance. He scowled at Cas who looked indifferent to his anger.

While Sam drank his coffee, Bobby pulled up a chair and sat down and Dean perched on the edge of the desk. Bobby hated that. He said it messed with his paperwork system—a chaotic system in Sam’s opinion. The fact he didn’t say anything to Dean made Sam sure that there were more important things on his mind.

When he couldn’t drag it out any longer, Sam set the mug down on an overflowing side table and looked up. “You want to talk, I get that, but you’ve got to let me have my say first.”

Dean gestured expansively with his arms. “Go ahead.”

Sam took a deep breath to prepare himself and then spoke in a rush. “You hate me, I get that, and I don’t blame you because I hate myself, too. But you have to know I never meant for any of it to happen. Apart from the demon blood, I guess. But even that I thought I was doing for the right reasons at first. But I know, okay? I know how bad I screwed up and how wrong I was. I know that even better than you because I actually lived it already. I was stupid and arrogant and so damn sure I was the one in the right, and I didn’t listen to anyone, and I should have.”

Dean’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Why didn’t you listen?”

“Dean…“ Bobby chided.

Both Sam and Dean ignored him. Sam answered, forcing himself to look into Dean’s eye as he did. “I was arrogant. I was so sure I was right. I thought it was all down to me. Even Chuck thought I was right.”

“Who the hell’s Chuck?” Bobby interjected but Sam went on without answering.

“I was so angry with her for what she did to you. I would’ve killed her, even without the seals as stakes. I was crazy with the need for it.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I was high. The demon blood didn’t just give me the power to draw and kill demons; it gave me… a buzz. I felt strong and powerful and right and… high.”

Dean nodded, his suspicions apparently confirmed.

Cas leaned forward slightly, breaking into the conversation. “And there was Ruby.”

Sam nodded, clinging to another explanation for his horrific crimes. He wasn’t making excuses. He just needed them to know what had happened. “She was lying to me all the time, feeding my own feelings of superiority. She made me believe it was me or no one.” He trailed off, panting.

“Anything else?” Dean asked in an even tone.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I am so damn sorry you have no idea. There are so many lives on me, so much blood on my hands that it will _never_ wash clean. There is nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already said to myself, but I know I deserve it all and more, so go ahead. Tell me.” He spread his arms as if presenting a target for them to aim at.

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Okay. My turn. I’m pissed, I don’t think I’ve ever been more pissed, but not because of the reasons you think. Cas filled us in as much as he could about that time and what happened after, and I know how it must have been for you with the angel dicks flapping around and me… otherwise occupied. I think I understand what you must have been thinking and feeling, but…” He shook his head. “Demon blood, Sam. That’s the thing I keep coming back to. You did that and lied to me again and again. You hid it from me for months, and then you came back to change things, and yet you sucked down the damn stuff all over again. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” Sam said quickly. “We couldn’t risk the angels finding out what we’re doing.”

“That’s an excuse,” Dean said without bite. “You found a way to tell us now so you could have earlier. So tell me, what were you thinking when you started up with it again?”

Sam wanted to duck his head and look away as he made his confession, but he forced himself to look into Dean’s eyes, addressing him and him alone. “Alastair. I _knew_ I had to kill him. The knife wouldn’t work and we don’t have the Colt, so I had to be the one to do it.”

“But why?” Dean asked plaintively. “Did you even know what you were risking? Cas said that the wall thing could have destroyed you for good, turned you into a drooling mess. I’ve heard Cas’ theories, but I want to know the truth. What was so bad that you had to do it?”

“I didn’t know,” Sam said, “not really. I knew it was a risk, but there was no other way. And he had to die. He… destroyed you, Dean. He hurt you so much. I knew you would never even have a little peace knowing he was out there still, so I killed him.”

Dean bowed his head and sighed heavily. There was silence for a long time. Sam couldn’t bear it. He wanted accusations and attacks, anything to ease the burn of shame in him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you, but you have to know I’m sorry.”

Dean looked up and Sam saw something in his expression that made him feel both confused and hopeful. “You’re wrong,” he said dourly. “I don’t hate you, Sam. Never have. Never could. No matter how much you screw up and piss me off. I’m not even angry really, not now that I understand.”

“But… you can hardly bear to be around me.”

“You think that’s because of what _you_ did?” Dean shook his head, laughing softly. “No, little brother, that’s me. I am pissed, so pissed that it burns, but not at you, at me. I know I haven’t been the same since I got back, and now I’m seeing just what that’s cost us, and what it will cost the world. You should never have gotten that deep; you never should have been able to get that far into it without me noticing. If this had happened even a year ago, I would have known. I would have seen the signs that you were hiding something and I’d have found out what the hell it was. I’m pissed because I failed you.”

Sam didn’t know what to say, though he thought he should have expected it. Dean always found a way to turn things around on himself, to take the blame when it wasn’t deserved. It was even worse since his return from Hell. He carried so much guilt for what he had done there that a little more wasn’t an issue for him.

He looked to Bobby for support, but he was nodding his head and saying, “Me too. I’m just as culpable. I knew something wasn’t right, I damn well knew it, but I didn’t look hard enough because I didn’t want to know. I figured we had enough to deal with. I failed you, Sam.”

Cas was standing against the wall, nodding agreement, and Sam felt like he was drowning. How could they think that? He had done this, not them. It was _all_ on him, not them, and the mere fact they thought they deserved even a portion of the blame was unbelievable. Even the first seal hadn’t been Dean’s fault. He had been broken and tortured for thirty damn years before he’d come off the rack. He had no idea that making that choice was going to break a seal; he didn’t even know what seals were then.

“No!” he said hoarsely, refusing their absolution. “You don’t understand. You tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t listen. You locked me up, and Bobby begged me to stop when I got out, but I wouldn’t. That’s all on me.”

Bobby smiled slightly. “We’re never going to agree. I think we all take our blame and stow it. We’ve still got a lot going on and self-flagellation isn’t helping anyone.”

“Very wise,” Cas said, nodding his approval.

Bobby cast him a mistrustful look and then went on. “We’ve still got an apocalypse to avert, and angel dicks flapping around. Now, Cas said that it’s important you two don’t get found out, so I say we end this conversation now and not have it again.”

Sam nodded a little reluctantly. He wanted to press on until they admitted they were blameless, but he knew them both well enough to know that would never happen. They’d set their hats to being the guilty ones and nothing he did or said would change that.

Dean nodded more firmly, probably just to appease Bobby. “I’m up for that.”

Cas looked approving. “Good. That’s settled then.”

“What’s up next, Sam?” Bobby asked. “You’re living the rerun, so what comes next?”

Sam considered for a moment, searching back through his memories. “Uh, oh yeah. How do you feel about icing a magician that’s killing people with magic?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Sam laughed softly. “Yeah. There’s this dick bag that’s going to be killing people soon.”

“Cool,” Dean said. “Let’s kill Voldemort.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much Jenjoremy for the beta magic and Gredelina1 for all the help and support.

**_Chapter Twelve_ **

 

Sam was lying in bed, listening to the sounds of Bobby’s old house—the creak and groan of the walls and the stuttering of pipes. Dean was still asleep in the other bed, snoring lightly, but Sam hadn’t been able to sleep long. The nightmares were too bad.

It wasn’t just Hell and the Cage tormenting him, though they made their presence known, it was what he had done when he was soulless that haunted him the most. He had hurt and killed so many people. He had been so beyond human, worse even than when he was on demon blood. At least when he’d been on the blood, he’d thought he was doing the right thing. Without a soul he had no such belief. He had hunted because it was something to do. Not because he cared for the people he was saving or working with—the Campbells were nothing more than a means to an end to him. The monsters were the only ones he cared about. He transported all his memories of Lucifer and Michael onto them and made sure they died bloody. He had remembered Hell, too, what there was of it. Sam estimated that at least a month passed on earth before Cas came for him. That was ten years of torture for his soulless self to want to avenge, not because of fear or hatred, he couldn’t feel any of that, but because of a sense of self-preservation. That was the only thing his soulless self could feel: the need to preserve himself. It was why he’d been bound on course to kill Bobby—because he didn’t want to end up a drooling mess.

Sam was glad that Cas had apparently overstated the risks of the memories returning, or perhaps Sam had just gotten lucky. Whichever it was, Sam was just relived that he was still walking and talking and useful. Alastair’s death notwithstanding, it would have been an awful waste to get this far into changing things only to fail. Though, perhaps he wouldn’t have failed. Perhaps the pain of the memories would have left him a wreck in this body, too, the body of his younger self. In that case, he wouldn’t have been able to kill Lilith, which still would have been a win as far as he was concerned. He’d once wanted to go out an old man in his bed with Jess beside him and maybe a couple grandchildren. Now he’d be satisfied to go out fighting and saving someone. The world definitely counted.

Dean snuffled in the bed beside his, and Sam knew he would be waking soon. He could stay and pretend to ‘wake’ when Dean did, but he didn’t want to lie. If Dean asked, he’d tell him about the nightmares, but he wouldn’t volunteer the information.

He threw back the bedclothes and swung himself round to sit on the edge of the bed. His head swam for a moment at the change in elevation and he took a second to let it settle before he got to his feet and dressed quickly and quietly.

The kitchen wasn’t empty when he got downstairs. Cas was standing in the library with a book open in his hands but a slightly vague look on his face. Sam recognized it as the expression of someone tuned into angel radio. He left Cas to his voices and went into the kitchen to start the coffee.

He was just filling the coffee maker with water when he heard heavy tread coming up behind him and then Cas’s dry voice. “Good morning, Sam.”

Sam smiled slightly as he poured the water into the machine and set it to working. “Hey, Cas.”

Cas peered at him a little too close for comfort, as if assessing him. “You did not sleep well.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I wanted to help.”

Sam turned and leaned back against the counter. “That’s okay, Cas. You can’t always fix things for us.”

“I could have helped, but Dean wouldn’t let me.”

“Okay,” Sam said slowly. “I’m a little lost here. What happened?”

“You were having a nightmare,” Cas said. “I came upstairs to help you, to put you into a dreamless sleep, but Dean was already awake. He said, and I quote, ‘touch him now and I’ll pluck you like a chicken’.”

Sam laughed softly. He could clearly imagine the conversation. Dean would be pissed and Cas annoyed at the futile threat, and meanwhile he would have been moaning and groaning his way through a nightmare.

“Sorry, Cas. It’s just Dean being Dean. He can’t help so he gets angry. It’s how he works. He didn’t mean it.”

“He doesn’t trust me,” Cas stated.

Sam knew he was right so he didn’t attempt to reassure him. The truth was Dean didn’t trust Cas yet. He had no reason to other than Sam’s testimony and that wasn’t exactly going to convince anyone of anything at the moment. He would in time. In the future they would return to, if everything went the way they wanted, Dean and Cas would be brothers. They just had to get back to that point.

“What were the angels chatting about earlier?” Sam asked to change the subject.

“They are searching for Uriel,” Cas said with a grim smile . “His absence has been noted and the demons are the accused, much as they were last time.”

“Will they find him?”

Cas shook his head. “We were in a very remote area when I killed him. Angels can sense each other by their grace, but when I stabbed Uriel with the angel blade, I destroyed his grace. He is just a dead vessel now. The only way he will be found is by happenstance.”

“Good. I feel kinda bad for the guy he was possessing, but…”

“Do not feel bad. He was not a nice person. His consent to being a vessel was the best thing he could have done for his family. He was not like Jimmy.”

Sam hadn’t thought about Jimmy Novak in a long time. He realized the events that led to him meeting the man were approaching and he wondered if it would happen again. Would this time’s version of Cas find out about the master plan and try to warn them? He hoped not, for Jimmy’s sake and his family’s. It had ended badly for them all.

Heavy footsteps came down the stairs and Dean walked into the room, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. His eyes were bleary and tired, probably from his night of broken sleep thanks to Sam.

“Hey,” Sam said with a smile. He turned and picked up a mug from the shelf. He filled it with coffee and handed it to Dean.

Dean took it with a nod of thanks and then turned his eyes on Cas. “I need to talk to my brother alone. Go stand outside with your hands over your ears or whatever.”

“Dean…” Sam started as he saw Cas’s eyes narrow. “You don’t need to do that. He’s on our side. Hell, he _is_ our side.”

“No,” Dean corrected, “he’s on your side. You and him have this whole back from the future thing going on, and I get it, but I don’t trust him and he doesn’t trust me. Maybe in the future we do have something different, but right now he’s just the guy that comes and drops shit on our laps occasionally.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest again but Cas spoke over him. “It’s fine, Sam,” he said stiffly. “I will stay close enough to sense another angel’s approach, but I will not listen to your conversation.”

He disappeared with a faint rustling sound and Sam glared at Dean. “You didn’t need to do that. He _isn’t_ the one that drops crap on our lap. He’s the one that’s trying to help us to fix it. The Cas of _this_ time is a dick.”

“Honestly, Sam, I can’t tell the difference. Seems like the same man to me.”

Sam poured himself coffee, not bothering to add cream or sugar, then pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He ran his hands through his hair, massaging his scalp in an attempt to rub away the tension. “So, what did you want to talk about that Cas couldn’t be here for?”

“Your nightmares for one. I woke up last night to find you moaning and Cas standing at the end of the bed watching you.”

“He was going to help,” Sam said quickly. “He wasn’t just being a creeper.” He smiled slightly. “You’ve trained him out of that habit in our time.”

“Help you how? ‘Cause I’ve been out for months now and not once has Castiel done anything for my… How do you know he _can_ help?”

Sam knew exactly what Dean had stopped himself from saying: _his nightmares._ Sam knew he was having them; he had known about them the first time, too. Dean would toss and turn and sweat would bead on his brow, and Sam knew it was Hell that was hurting him. He had thought the nightmares were about what he had suffered there at first, but when Dean told him the full story of Hell, he understood it was the things he had done that haunted him the most.

“He hasn’t helped your nightmares because he’s not that person,” Sam said. “The Castiel you’ve been dealing with is still a dick. For him, a human’s nightmares are no more important than a pimple on an ant’s butt. He just doesn’t get it. But this Cas, _our_ Cas… he understands. He’s been on our side for years now. Hell, he _fell_ for us, Dean. He went against Heaven and fell, and he lived practically human for a year. That’s who he is. The real Cas, the one who brought me back here, he cares. If you’d let him, he’d help you, too.”

“I don’t need help,” Dean said quickly, raising his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“I don’t,” Dean said firmly. “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about, not really. I want to know what you were dreaming about.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Your own hell not enough for you? You want to hear about mine, too?”

“It was Hell then.” Dean sighed.

“Actually, not completely,” Sam said. “It was something else, but it’s not important. You once told me there were no words to explain Hell, and it’s the same for me. There aren’t words to tell you how it felt then or how it still feels now. It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it. It’s that I can’t.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t help anyway.”

Dean stared into his eyes, making Sam feel like he was seeing right into him, through flesh and blood and bone, to the mangled and ruined soul that was the cause of so much pain.

“And it doesn’t matter,” Sam went on. “If things work out this time, I’ll never need to go to Hell and it won’t be a problem. I only wish it could be the same for you. That was what I wanted, you know? I wanted Cas to take me back further, before Cold Oak, so I could stop you from making the deal.”

“You what?” Dean said angrily.

Sam ignored him and went on. “But it wouldn’t work. Cas said that there was no way of changing your basic nature to save me, so it would have happened anyway. I just…” He ducked his head. “I did try to save you from it, Dean, I wanted to.”

“I know,” Dean said. “Hell, I know just how hard you tried.” He frowned. “But how would that have helped anyway? Lilith would still have started cracking seals once the idea occurred to her, wouldn’t she? It’s not like me going to Hell helped her other than to get me out of the way, and I’m not arrogant enough to believe I’m anything more than an slight annoyance to her.”

“No,” Sam agreed quickly. He couldn’t tell Dean the truth. He didn’t need to know about the first seal. His Hell had already done enough damage to him; there was no reason to add more guilt. “It wouldn’t have made a difference to anyone but us.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Good. I mean it sucks that I had to go to the pit, but Cas was right. You couldn’t have stopped me from making that deal, so it would have just meant more boring reruns for you.”

Sam gave him a small smile. “I promise you, Dean, these reruns are anything but boring. In a way, it’s incredible that I am able to change these things. It’s freeing in a way nothing has ever been before, but at the same time, it’s frustrating as all hell, because I can’t change enough. People still die.”

Dean looked thoughtful then he leaned across the table and braced a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “People are always going to die, Sam. There’s nothing we can do about that. We save as many as we can while we can. That’s the best we can hope for. Now, chick flick moment over with, what’s the deal with Voldemort?”

Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, you’re not going to like it, but we’re going to need Cas for this one.”

“Why?” Dean asked acidly.

“Because I can pick a pocket, but Cas is the only who can render someone unconscious without drawing too much attention.”

“What’s your Fagin act—which is no better than mine by the way—got to do with it?”

“It’s a long story,” Sam said, hearing footsteps on the stairs. “And Bobby’s on his way so I’ll wait for him before I explain.”

xXx

The ride to Sioux City only took an hour with Dean’s driving. Sam enjoyed being back in the car with the music playing and Dean singing along to his favorite songs, and he was a little disappointed when they passed through the city limits and Sam directed him to the hotel the acts had been staying in last time.

Bobby had chosen to stay home while they took the hunt, saying there were things they needed to do. Cas had not opted to make the journey with them, which probably accounted for Dean’s good mood, but when they pulled up outside the hotel, he was standing on the sidewalk waiting for them. He had possibly been there for the entire time it had taken them to drive from Bobby’s. He smiled slightly as Sam and Dean climbed out of the Impala. Sam returned it while Dean turned away and opened the trunk to collect their duffels. He tossed Sam his and the corner of a book caught Sam in the stomach and he huffed. He was still a little tender from being tossed around the cot in the throes of withdrawal. Cas frowned and took a step forward but stopped when Sam shook his head slightly.

“Find the place all right, Cas?” he asked, merely for something to say.

“You gave me the address,” Cas replied, possibly wondering why Sam was asking such an obvious question given his presence.

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I did.”

Dean walked away from them both and pushed open the heavy doors to the hotel. It was a nice place, nicer than their usual lodgings. The walls were paneled dark wood and the floor was carpeted a deep red. There were actual flowers on the counter, and it was marble topped rather than Formica.

“Looks pricey,” Dean murmured.

“We’ll only be here one night,” Sam reminded him.

Dean nodded and walked toward the counter with a beaming smile in place for the pretty young woman staffing the desk. “Hi there, Marion,” he said, glancing at the nameplate behind the registry book. “We need a double room for the night.”

Marion looked at them each in turn; Sam, still holding his duffel in front of him, Cas standing beside him staring vaguely at the flowers obviously not paying attention to anything but the voices in his head, and then back to Dean. “Just a double?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about Rain Man here,” he said, slapping Cas’s chest harder than was necessary. “We have to get him back to the center before eleven. Just wanted him to see the magician show next door.”

“Ahhhh,” she said, sympathetic smile falling on Cas. “You have a good time.”

Cas ignored her as completely as he had Dean’s slap. She looked confused.

“He’s a little…” Dean twirled a finger beside his ear.

“He’s fine,” Sam said through gritted teeth. “Do you have a double?”

“Uh, sure,” she said. She looked at her computer for a moment then nodded and turned to a rack of old-fashioned keys on hooks behind her. She picked one and handed it to Dean. “Room twenty-four. It’s on the second floor.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s where we put the magician guests, too. You might see them in the halls in their outfits. I thought your buddy might like that.”

“He’s our brother,” Sam said stiffly, a remark for Dean more than her.

“Oh… Sorry,” she said.

Sam turned away and tugged on Cas’s arm, thinking this would be a real good time for Cas to ignore the voices and pay attention to the world around him. Cas looked at him and perhaps he saw the plea in Sam’s eye, because he said, “Do you have accommodations?”

“Yeah, Cas. Dean booked us in.”

They had to wait for an elderly couple to exit the elevator before they could enter, and Cas remained tuned into real events for the wait, thanks perhaps to Sam asking him if he had seen a magician before, a question born of the fact Marion was still paying attention to them.

“No, Sam,” Cas replied. “I have seen infinite majesty that could perhaps be called magic by lesser beings, but I’ve never visited a magician show.”

Dean snorted and they filed into the elevator.

When they got onto the second floor, they saw it was similarly decorated to the lobby except the walls were half paneled and half red-flocked wallpaper. Dean whistled between his teeth as he unlocked the door and let them in. Sam dropped his duffel down onto the first of the queen-size beds and Dean strolled into the bathroom while Cas stood beside the window and looked outside.

“Hell, Sammy,” Dean called from the bathroom. “Doesn’t matter when we wrap this case up, we’re staying here at least a night. This place has a tub so big even _you’d_ fit in it.”

“Sure, Dean,” Sam replied in a tired voice.

Dean came out again and fixed his eyes on Sam. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I’m fine.” He could feel Cas’s eyes on him, too, but he didn’t meet them. “Okay. We should probably get a head start on this.”

Dean stared at him for a moment longer, concerned, and then he shook his head and sat on the edge of his bed. “It’s the cards, right?”

Sam nodded. “The guy, Charlie, has a pack of enchanted tarot cards. He’s going to slip Patrick—the first victim—one today, if he hasn’t already, so when Jay does the Table of Death trick, it’ll kill Patrick instead of Jay.”

“So we have to get the card from Patrick and get it back to Charlie somehow?”

“Yeah, and that’s where Cas comes in. I don’t know much about Patrick other than that he was a dick who liked to steal from other acts, but the Charlie we came up against was shifty. We can’t just hand him the card in an envelope disguised as a valentine. Cas is going to need to use him mojo to knock him out.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” Cas observed.

“You have _no_ idea,” Dean said with a short laugh. “Sammy’s pro at angsting over old cases. Who we could have saved if we’d been there sooner. What we could have stopped if we’d known more. This back from the future thing has to be like a dream come true for him half the time.”

Sam scowled at Dean and Cas said, “I don’t believe that is true.”

Dean shrugged and got to his feet again. He turned his back on Cas and Sam, indicating an end to their conversation.

xXx

Cas shouldn’t care that Dean was being… well, Dean, but he did. He understood Sam’s fears now, why the young hunter was worried that he would return to a Dean who was different with him. After all, he was living in the past with that same thing. There was no trust between them, no bond. Dean didn’t trust him and that was unlikely to change just because Sam explained the future to him. It was not his purpose to improve his or Sam’s relationship with Dean through this trip to the past though, so he tried not to dwell on it. He was here for greater reasons and they were what mattered.

He was concerned about Sam though. His nightmares were draining him. He was exhausted and frustrated today because he was tired, and that wasn’t a good way to go into a hunt. There was nothing Cas could do about that since Dean refused to let him help.

The first phase of the plan went smoothly enough. Cas followed Sam’s instructions to the room that was being used by the intended victim and found the tarot card in his suit pocket. He returned to the room Sam and Dean were occupying to find Sam pacing back and forth, chewing his thumbnail, and Dean lying back on the bed saying, “Sam, he’s an angel. It’s not like he’ll let himself get caught and… speak of the angel. Did you get it?”

Sam whirled around to face him and Cas nodded. “I have retrieved the card.”

Sam reached for it but Dean shouted a wordless cry of protest and jumped from the bed. “Are you kidding me?”

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s a cursed card, Sam! What if that Jay guy decides to give the trick a practice run and you get speared?”

“Then Cas would heal me.”

Dean heaved a breath that Cas thought was supposed to be calming but when he spoke his tone hadn’t softened at all. “Is that how we live in the future? Running into burning buildings and getting ourselves shot to hell because we’ve got a magic Band-Aid running with us?”

“No,” Sam answered quickly. “I was just saying that it would be okay now.”

“I am not always with you in the future,” Cas said, thinking of all the things he had missed, all the times the Winchesters had been hurt and he had not been able to help them because he was away trying to defy Heaven’s will or with Crowley. “There are also times I cannot heal.”

Dean turned his glare on him. “Well, that’s just awesome. You’re basically saying you’re about as useful in the future are you are here.”

“Dean!” Sam snapped. “I was kidding, and Cas helps us plenty, then and now, so quit with the attitude.”

Dean made a face but didn’t speak. Sam cast him an annoyed glance and then looked at his watch.

“Okay. We don’t want to get the card to Charlie too early because he might find it. We need to wait for Jay to start his show and then Cas can get it to him. Remember, Dean, we’re just audience members. No drawing attention to ourselves or fist pumping when everything goes to hell.”

“You say that like I’m not a professional,” Dean griped.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Remember the Harlem job?”

Dean looked confused. “Uh, no.”

“Oh,” Sam said awkwardly. “Well, one day you will and you’ll understand why I’m saying this now.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay then. How long do we have and what are we going to do until then? Because I saw a sweet looking bar next door and I was thinking that maybe a few drinks would be a better icebreaker between me and our resident time-travelling angel than what we already tried. “

“Yeah, we’ve got a couple hours,” Sam said. “And maybe we can get an ID on Charlie while we’re there.”

“You gave him a description already,” Dean said. “You think he’s not up to finding him?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I told him it was a guy in his late-sixties with short grey hair and a bowtie.”

“And?”

“And… come see for yourself.”

The Winchesters grabbed wallets from jackets and stowed weapons in pockets and boots, then set out. Cas marveled over the men he was with and their lack of discomfort in knowing that, even to go out for a drink, they needed to be armed at all times. It was such a part of them now, ingrained in them since childhood, that it seemed natural. Cas occasionally wondered how long Sam had been at Stanford before he stopped carrying a weapon on him at all times or if indeed he had ever stopped.

The bar was different than the ones Sam and Dean usually frequented. There was no pool table, no dartboard, and the music was soft and tasteful rather than brash and annoying. Sam seemed impressed by the place as he looked around and smiled slightly. He and Cas took a table and while Dean went to the bar. Sam toyed with the folded napkin on the table and looked around the room, looking uncomfortable. Cas was going to ask what was troubling him when he spoke up.

“Cas, I’m sorry about Dean. I know he’s being a dick. If you want, when we’ve taken care of this magician, you can take a break for a while. Go back to our time and chill for or just get away from us.”

Cas shook his head. “Dean is just being himself of this time. I understand that. And there is no place more important for me to be than in this time with you. You are doing great things here, Sam, and I need to be here to support you.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said. “But, you know, I’m not the only one doing great things, if you can call them that. You’re doing plenty. You took out Uriel, which I could never have done, and saved Anna from the angels and demons. That’s more than…” He shook his head. “It’s something special.”

Cas didn’t feel that he was doing anything great. While it was true he had killed Uriel and given Anna her grace, there was no greatness in taking a life—even of a betrayer—and forcing unwanted grace upon Anna again. Sam seemed to be the one taking the weight of it all, and Cas wished he could do more. Though Sam himself probably thought his suffering since their return to this time was deserved and just punishment for what he had done before, Cas knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t what Dean would want. The real Dean, the Dean of their time, was trusting Cas to take care of Sam, and there was so little he could do to help him.

Dean came back to their table at that moment, grumbling about over the top prices and gripping three bottles of beer in his hands. He handed one to Sam and then set one down roughly in front of Cas.

“Make these last,” he said. “Because it doesn’t look like this is a place that’s going to let me hustle and we’re almost out of cash now. Actually,” he leveled a gaze at Cas, “you can help with that. When you’re shoving the card on Charlie Manson, grab his wallet, will you?”

“You want me to steal from him?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I know it’s committing a sin or breaking a commandment or whatever, but we’re running low on funds and I just wasted what little money we have on buying _you_ a beer.”

Cas didn’t actually care about the sin of stealing, he was just clarifying what Dean wanted him to do, but he nodded nonetheless and said, “I will take what I can.”

“Heads up, guys,” Sam said suddenly. “They’re here.”

Cas looked to where Sam’s gaze was fixed and saw three men. One was taller than the others with groomed grey hair. He wore a peach satin shirt and black bowtie. To his right stood a man wearing a more somber black bowtie and dinner jacket. On the other side was a man dressed more casually in a striped vest and shirt underneath a beige jacket. They came into the room, nodding and smiling at acquaintances, and took seats at the bar.

“Which one?” Dean breathed.

“To the left,” Sam replied. “Peach shirt is Jay. Sweater-vest is Vernon. Charlie’s in black.”

“See him, Cas?” Dean asked. “That’s the one you’ve got to do the switcheroo with.”

Cas didn’t know what a switcheroo was but he understood enough. “I see.”

Sam glanced at him, and Cas thought there was something he wanted to say, but then he looked down at his beer and stayed silent. If Dean hadn’t been there, he would have said it, Cas was sure, and he suddenly resented the older Winchester for his presence.

Dean and Sam discussed the bar and hotel and their usual haunts while Cas sat in silence, listening to the conversation between the three men at the bar. There was no sign that Jay or Vernon knew what Charlie was planning. The conversation seemed to be centered around the desire to stop Jay from doing the Table of Death trick that he had planned. Cas assumed Charlie was just playing a part, though, because he surely wanted Jay to do it.

Eventually, Jay moved from the bar and said, “It’s all set up. I have to do it now,” then walked away from his friends.

“He’s going to kill his damned self,” Vernon murmured.

“Perhaps not,” Charlie answered, following Jay out of the bar.

Vernon downed the last of his drink and then followed.

“Showtime,” Sam said. “We better get to the theatre. Cas, you clear on everything?”

Cas nodded. “I will wait for the appointed time and then act.”

Sam nodded, satisfied, and then he and Dean exited the bar leaving Cas alone. Cas didn’t want to draw attention to himself, so he walked through the door marked as restrooms and then shielded himself from view. Not being seen was imperative to this mission. He found the theatre by following Sam and Dean’s signature sparks of self. They were standing outside the theatre with a few other people, not the crowd Cas would have expected for this kind of event. The doors were still locked, but that wasn’t a problem for Cas.

When he was inside the theatre, he saw the room was prepared for the show. Small candles in red glass pots sat lit on each table along with small bowls of nuts. The stage was curtained, but Cas could see something bulging the red velvet—The Table of Death, he presumed. A middle-aged man was just fumbling with the locks at the doors and a moment later, the group that had been waiting outside spilled in, Sam and Dean among them.

Cas heard voices behind the curtains and a moment later he stood among them, unseen but very much present. Vernon was straightening Jay’s tie and Charlie was fumbling with something in his pocket, the rest of the tarot Cards perhaps. Cas would need to take them from him along with his wallet when he was incapacitated.

Cas stood back as the pre-show preparations finished and Charlie took the stage to introduce Jay. Cas heard the applause and tried to imagine Sam and Dean joining in. The thought made him smile. Jay walked out on stage and announced his first trick. Cas moved so he could see through the crack in the curtain as Jay lay on the table and Charlie cuffed him down. A timer started counting down with clicks for each second as Charlie slipped behind the curtain again.

Vernon was muttering under his breath, a prayer for his friend’s safety, and Cas smiled to hear it even as he repositioned himself behind Charlie. He reached up two fingers and pressed them to his temple and Charlie collapsed back. Cas stepped out of his way and Charlie hit the floor with a thump. He was barely aware of Vernon’s cry of shock or him dropping to his knees beside his fallen friend as Cas was already bending over to reach into his pocket and slip the tarot card in while removing the others—understanding as he did what a switcheroo was.

He moved back with thirty seconds to spare, and he watched as Vernon ordered the middle-aged man that had opened the theatre to call an ambulance and futilely tried to rouse his friend. The seconds ticked down, and internally Cas willed it to work—for the card to do its business and end this life rather than an innocent’s.

The last second ticked away and there was the sound of the swords falling into place in front of the curtain and a sick squelching sound as the wounds appeared on Charlie’s chest. Vernon yelled and Jay ripped back the curtain, paling with shock as he saw his friend’s fate. Cas slipped back as other people raced forward, drawn to the sound of Vernon’s pain and the spectacle. He saw two familiar faces at the rear of the crowd and he smiled as they nodded at each other.

Cas cast a glance over Charlie’s form, searching for any sign of life in the man, but there was none. It had worked.

xXx

Despite what had happened, Dean insisted on staying at the hotel that night, citing the fact no one would suspect them of having anything to do with what everyone was calling a freak death. Sam agreed without too much argument. Cas made himself scarce, following the path of Charlie’s corpse to the morgue, while they each showered and prepared for bed. When he returned, Sam was lying stretched out on his bed with his arms crossed behind his head and Dean was examining the mini-bar.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas said, knowing he would receive a more cordial response from him when announcing his return.

Sam looked up but didn’t change position. “Hey, Cas.”

Dean pulled a miniature bottle from the fridge and unscrewed the cap. “Charlie all gone?” he asked.

“Yes, his body has been deposited in the morgue. I understand from what Jay said that he and Vernon would take care of his funeral as he had no family.”

“Not really surprising,” Sam said. “Seeing as he’s a couple centuries old.”

“He is?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, he… I guess I didn’t tell you that part, huh?”

“No, Sam,” Dean said bitterly. “You didn’t.”

Sam didn’t look concerned. “It’s hard to remember it all. I guess I forgot what you didn’t know.”

Dean grumbled but didn’t articulate his thoughts more than that.

“We need to deal with these,” Cas said, holding up the pack of tarot cards. “We cannot allow them to fall into another’s hands.”

Dean shrugged. “Burn ‘em?”

“As you wish,” Cas replied. He shook the cards out on his palm and focused his gaze. Fire broke out and swallowed the cards, licking over his palms but leaving no heat or wound.

“What the hell?” Dean shouted.

Cas ignored him, fixing his gaze and focusing intently on the cards until they had been burned to curls of ash, then he fisted his hand and ground the curls to dust. “It is done.” He shook the ashes into the wastepaper basket in the corner.

“Nice work,” Sam said lazily.

Cas nodded and wiped his ashy palm on his coat, bumping against something in his pocket as he did. He reached inside and pulled out a pristine pack of tarot cards. “Oh.”

Dean laughed. “Can’t get the angel pyros these days, Sammy.”

Sam sat up. “It’s okay, Cas. Don’t worry about it. We’ll get a curse box for them.”

Cas nodded. “That would probably be for the best.” He stowed the cards back in his pocket and patted them. “I will keep them until we have procured a box.”

Sam nodded. “Thanks.”

“So,” Dean said, “It’s sleep time for us now, and we’re not having you watching us again, because that’s creepy as all hell, so you need to flap off and find a place to roost for the night.”

Cas frowned at him. “I do not roost.”

“Well, whatever it is you do at night, you’re not doing it here. Go see a friend or something.”

“All my friends are dead or here,” Cas said, looking pointedly at Sam. He understood the message Dean was trying to impart though. He was supposed to leave them to rest alone. There was something he wanted to do first though. He looked at Sam. “Would you like me to help you have a peaceful night?”

Sam nodded gratefully. “That’d be awesome.”

“Are you comfortable?”

Sam shifted on the bed until his head was on the pillow and he crooked an arm under his face.

Cas ignored Dean’s shout of “What the hell are you doing?” and pressed a hand to Sam’s brow, sending him to a dreamless sleep. Sam’s eyes fell closed and his breaths became soft sighs.

“What was that?” Dean asked again.

“That was me helping,” Cas said. “Sam will have a peaceful night now.”

“Great,” Dean said bitterly. “He’ll also have a chilly one. Don’t you know Sam gets cold at night? And since you didn’t make him get under the damn covers before knocking him out, I’ll have to sort things out.”

“I can lift him and cover him up,” Cas offered.

“Don’t touch him again!” Dean growled, stomping over to his own bed and pulling off the bedspread. He laid it over Sam gently and tucked it around his feet and then turned his glare on Cas again. “Think you know Sam, do you?”

“I _do_ know, Sam,” Cas said. “I have had years of his company, and we’ve—“

“I’ve had a lifetime of it!” Dean snarled. “And maybe you two have this whole history that I’m just now living, but the point is you don’t know him, not really. You two work your mission, save the world, but remember this.Iam the one who _knows_ Sam and no amount of bouncing through the past is going to change that. Understand?”

Cas stared into Dean’s eyes. “I am not trying to replace you, Dean.”

“Good, ‘cause you can’t.”

“But I _do_ know Sam. And he’s not the only one I know.” He fixed Dean with a piercing stare. “I know you, too.”

That said, he shielded himself from view and moved to the corner. He would not leave the Winchesters that night. He would stay, and if Dean’s dreams became troubled he would soothe them, too. Because cantankerous and abrasive as Dean may be in this time, he was Cas’s friend, and that didn’t change no matter what time they were in.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Jenjoremy for beta’ing, Gredelina1 for helping me write it, and to you all for supporting the story.

**_Chapter Thirteen_ **

 

Sam woke feeling well rested the next day. His sleep had been dreamless thanks to Cas. He’d almost forgotten what a decent night’s sleep felt like. Even before the wall came down, even before Dean went to Hell, probably since Jess, Sam’s dreams had been his nemesis. There were always horrors waiting for him to fragment his fragile sleep. But today he’d woken feeling good, and that made a difference in his expectations for the day.

He showered and dressed quietly, not wanting to wake Dean, and then sat on the bed for another hour flipping through his father’s journal merely for something to do until Dean woke. But Dean slept on. Sam began to wonder whether Cas had knocked him out, too. He didn’t think Dean would allow him to willingly, but he had been pushing Cas’s buttons the night before, so maybe Cas had just gotten sick of his shit and knocked him out to shut him up.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text, and he picked it up and pulled up the message automatically. His heart stuttered as he read it. It was four simple words — **We need to talk!** — but it was the sender that had his breath quickening. Ruby. He hadn’t thought of her since he was in the panic room, preparing for withdrawal and cursing her name for everything she had done to him. He _should_ have been thinking of her though, he realized, because she was still out there somewhere, running amok. He sighed out a breath. He needed to deal with her and he needed to do so quickly.

He didn’t reply to the message. He just locked the screen and stowed it back in his pocket before throwing a pillow across to the second bed. It bounced off Dean’s head and he jerked awake, bolting upright and aiming his gun at the bathroom door. “Sam!”

“Right here,” Sam said calmly, “I’m fine, and the bathroom’s not going to attack you, so holster.”

Dean looked around, from Sam to the extra pillow on his bed to the gun in his hand. “Dammit, Sam, I could have put a bullet in you. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking it’s time for you to wake your ass up,” Sam said, getting to his feet and reaching for his boots where they were placed neatly at the end of the bed. “We should get back to Bobby’s. I’m sure you need to eat, and there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Is this more back from the—“

Sam cut a hand across his throat in a gesture to make Dean shut up. Cas wasn’t there, so they couldn’t talk about anything to do with Sam’s return trip. “Later, Dean.”

Dean scowled but nodded and stumbled into the bathroom. Ten minutes later he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and running a hand through his damp hair. “Back to Bobby’s then? There’s nowhere else you think we should go? You haven’t, ummm, _heard_ about any other hunts?”

Sam shook his head. “Bobby’s will be good for now.”

xXx

They were halfway back to Sioux Falls and Dean was in the middle of belting out the chorus to _Ramble on_ while Sam laughed when a dry voice spoke over the music from the back seat. “Hello, Sam.”

Sam turned in his seat, his smile still on his lips as he greeted Cas. “Hey.”

“Oh, no,” Dean groaned. “Hell, no. It’s bad enough that you just appear whenever you like when we’re stationary, but you’re not doing it when we’re driving. You could’ve made me crash!”

“You didn’t,” Cas pointed out. “And I would have saved you if you had.”

“And who would have saved my baby?”

Cas merely looked at Dean, no trace of emotion, and Sam laughed again. “We’re okay, Dean, and the car is fine. Cas, next time, wait till we’re at a stop light or something, okay?”

Cas nodded. “If you would prefer.”

“Yes, that is what we would prefer,” Dean said, attempting to mimic Cas’s articulation.

Sam smiled and stared out of the windshield. He knew that since Cas was now there, it was time to tell Dean about Ruby’s text and the full story of her involvement in Lilith’s plans, but he hated to ruin the moment by dragging those things up again. It wasn’t like Dean could have forgotten Sam’s crimes or the consequences, but they were having a good morning, and Sam didn’t want to drag drama in to it. He had to though. Secrets were a big part of what got him into the mess the last time. He had to be honest now.

“Dean, pull over,” he said quietly.

Dean’s eyes snapped to him for a moment before returning to the road. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something I need to tell you, and I don’t want to risk the paintjob.”

There was a gas station a little ahead, and Dean directed them there and pulled over in the parking lot. As soon as the engine was off, he turned fully in his seat, crossing a leg under him, to look at Sam.

“So, talk.” There was a certain level of tension in his voice. Sam thought there should be given the revelations Dean had heard lately.

“I got a text,” Sam said, “from Ruby.”

Cas leaned over the back of the bench seat to see Sam better. “What did she say?”

“Just that we needed to talk. I haven’t replied.”

Dean looked a little bemused. “Okay, a text from demon bitch 2.0 isn’t the best news I heard all day, but what’s got you two looking like that?”

“Ruby was the one who encouraged Sam to drink blood,” Cas started the tale, but Dean interrupted.

“Yeah, I remember that from the show and tell. I’ll kill her for it, too, but I’m getting the feeling that there’s more to this than I know about, so what gives?”

Sam wanted to duck his head, to avoid Dean’s gaze, but he forced himself to meet Dean’s eye as he said, “It wasn’t about helping me pull demons. She was a part of it all. She got me on the blood for a reason. Ruby is working for Lilith.”

Dean let loose a stream of expletives that were both visual and imaginative. Sam waited in silence for him to get it out of his system and then he spoke again.

“Lilith is the only one who knows. All the other demons think Ruby’s on our side, but she’s not. The plan’s always been for me to get strong enough on the blood to kill demons so I can kill Lilith and break the last seal. Dean – Lilith _is_ the final seal.”

Dean shook his head. “Wait. What? Lilith knows she’s going to die?”

“Yeah. I guess she’s enough of a loyalist that she doesn’t mind.” Sam shrugged. “Last time she seemed to have second thoughts at the last minute, though. She came to me with a deal—she’d step down from the seals in exchange for our lives. We didn’t make the deal, and I guess she would have weaseled out of it anyway, but I think for a minute she changed her mind. Whatever. The point is that her sidekick is Ruby, and she’s trying to get in touch again.”

“What will you do?” Cas asked.

Sam had considered this many times over since his return to this time and subsequent confession to Dean and Bobby. “What I should have done last time before any of the blood stuff started: kill her.”

Cas nodded, satisfied. “I would like to see that.”

Dean’s mind was working on a different track though. “Are you telling me she’s still alive in your time?”

“No, she’s been dead years,” Sam said. “I wasn’t the one to kill her though.”

“Who was?”

Sam grinned. “You. I’d have taken the shot, but I was busy holding her still for you.”

“Works for me,” Dean said easily.

“How are you going to do this?” Cas asked.

“I figure I answer her message when we’re back in Sioux Falls and meet her. There’s a place we’ve met before. When she gets there, I pull the blade and you hold her in place, Cas.”

“Hey! Why does he get to do the holding?” Dean asked. “I want in.”

“If she sees you, she won’t come, Dean. If she even thinks you’ve come along, she’ll stay clear. She has to think I’m alone. Cas is the only one who can hide himself.”

Cas glanced at Dean, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. Sam figured with all the ball busting Dean had been doing lately, it felt good for Cas to get his own way.

“I am happy to help,” Cas said serenely, settling back in his seat.

Sam pulled out his phone and wrote a quick reply to Ruby: **Heading to SF. Let me know when you’re in town.**

xXx

There was no more singing on the way back to Bobby’s after that. Dean drove with his hands tight around the steering wheel and his eyes casting malevolent glares at Cas through the rearview mirror. Sam tried to break the silence with conversation, but Dean merely grunted responses and Cas had tuned into angel radio once again.

When Bobby’s yard came into view, Sam breathed a sigh of relief. At least he would have someone else to talk to now, and Bobby didn’t seem to have as much of a problem with Cas as Dean did. Maybe there would actually be a civilized conversation.

“Huh,” Dean said as he pulled up in front of the house. “Bobby’s got company.”

Sam had noticed, too. There was a banged up Ford parked beside the Chevelle. Sam didn’t recognize it, but he only knew a handful of the people that Bobby knew.

“Maybe you should flap off,” Dean said to Cas.

Sam cast him an apologetic look. “Or just go invisible again,” he suggested. “I’ve no idea who’s in there, but it’s probably best if they don’t know about you.”

Cas nodded and disappeared.

“Finally,” Dean breathed as he climbed the steps to the porch and opened the door.

Sam came in close behind him, and it was his foot that Dean stepped on as he dodged back from the blow that came at his head from Ellen as she caught sight of him.

“What the hell, Ellen?” Dean gasped.

“I’ll give you what the hell,” she cried. “I have to hear from Rufus that you’re still alive! _Rufus_! What, did Hell break your dialing finger?”

Dean was protesting and dodging her slapping hands, but Sam was frozen in place.

She was alive!

It was almost painful to hear her gravelly voice still shouting at Dean and to know it was really her. Ellen was alive because she hadn’t yet sat down beside her dying daughter in a store surrounded by homemade bombs.

He stepped back through the still open door and turned his back on the scene, wiping at the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was stupid, silly to react like this, but he couldn’t help it. They had lost a lot in the years that passed between this time and his own, but none of those losses had hurt him the way Ellen and Jo’s had, because he knew their deaths were his fault. Their lives had ended because of his actions. They were only in Carthage to go after the Devil, and that was only necessary because of what Sam had done.

Another tear slipped down his cheek.

Things behind him calmed, and he heard his name mentioned, so he quickly blinked the last of the tears from his eyes then wiped them away with his sleeve. He sniffed and cleared his throat and then turned with a winning smile on his face to greet Ellen.

“Hey,” he said brightly.

“Don’t hey me,” she said sharply. “You lose my number, too? When your brother comes back from the dead, you make a couple calls.”

Sam nodded and felt the cool air against the moisture on his face that he hadn’t completely cleared. “Sorry, Ellen. Things just got so crazy that…” He shrugged.

She looked into his eyes and frowned slightly “You okay?” she asked, voice softer now. “You look a little…”

“I’m fine,” Sam said quickly. “Just cringing still from Dean’s drive time classics.” He laughed softly.

She stared at him a moment longer and then turned to say something to Bobby. Sam moved into the room and set to work refilling the coffee machine and gathering mugs from the cabinet. He stared out of the window and kept his tears back through sheer force of will alone as he listened to Ellen’s exclamations as Dean and Bobby filled her in on the angels and seals. It was a dual pleasure and pain to be around her. He absorbed her words, her wonderfully alive voice, and at the same time wished Dean from his time could share the moment.

When he could delay no longer, he poured the coffees and moved around the room, handing them to Dean, Bobby and Ellen who were positioned on various pieces of furniture, chatting happily.

He went back to the counter to collect his own mug just in time to hear Ellen say, “And Jo sends her love.”

New tears pooled at that. Jo, young, beautiful, brave Jo was alive still. Out in the world somewhere she was living her life. He took a sip of coffee and almost choked on it.

A hand slapped down on his shoulder and Dean’s voice echoed in his ears. “Sorry Bobby doesn’t stock the caramel syrup you like, Sammy. You’ll have to make do with your housewife coffee again.” Sam forced a laugh and began to turn but Dean’s hand tightened on his shoulder, holding him in place. “Wipe your face,” he murmured.

Sam did as he was bidden, composed himself and turned with a smile pasted on his face. “So, what have you been up to, Ellen?” he asked.

It transpired that Ellen was running a bar for a friend. Like The Roadhouse, it was in Nebraska, and she was enjoying the work without the financial strain. Jo was hunting as a part of a crew of three now, working with one other woman, Jen, and her partner Eric. It was clear from Ellen’s tone that she wasn’t happy with the decision her daughter had made to hunt, though there was grudging pride in her as she told a story about Jo and her crew taking on a nest of vampires.

Sam felt overwhelmed as he listened to her stories, and he knew he wasn’t doing a good job of hiding that as he could feel Dean’s eyes on him. He sat as quietly as possible, letting Dean and Bobby speak for fear of letting something slip that Ellen shouldn’t know. When the story came around to them and their latest hunts, Dean launched into an explanation of how they’d spied on the magician and worked out what he was doing and how they’d turned the trick on him.

“What did you do with the cards?” Bobby asked.

“They’re in the trunk,” Dean said easily. “We figured we’d have to get a curse box for them.”

“They’re in the trunk!” Bobby repeated, his color rising. “Damn, boys, you trying to put me in an early grave?” When Sam and Dean looked blank, he blustered on. “You don’t leave something as powerful as that just lying around in the trunk of your car! Go get them; I’m sure I’ve got a box around here somewhere.”

Glad for the excuse to get outside for a moment, Sam stood quickly and made for the door. He got outside and breathed a sigh of relief before realized he didn’t bring the keys out with him. It didn’t matter though, as Dean came out at that moment, tossing them from one hand to the other. He opened the trunk and Sam moved to grab the cards—Castiel must have stashed them there for him when he heard their coversation—but Dean caught his wrist.

Sam looked up. “What?”

“Ellen.” With one word Dean told Sam that he knew exactly what must have happened to make him so leaky around the eyes.

“Jo, too,” Sam said quietly.

Dean cursed. “What happened?”

Sam shook his head. “The apocalypse.”

“I figured that much out myself. What _happened_?”

Sam locked eyes with Dean, trying to communicate more than his words would say. “You don’t want to know, Dean. You don’t need those nightmares.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and then he turned away. “This is why you’re here, isn’t it? For Ellen and Jo.”

“For them,” Sam said. “For Rufus, too. For you and me, Bobby and Cas. For every single life we lost because of what I did. That’s why I’m so grateful to Cas. On any given day in our time it’s hard to breathe right because I feel like the weight of all that death, all that guilt is crushing me. He’s given me the most amazing opportunity to fix things for the world and myself.”

“Yeah, I get the message,” Dean grumbled. “Angel dick isn’t such a dick after all.”

“He’s really not in my time,” Sam said. “You’ll see that when you get there.” His phone vibrated in his pocket again and he pulled it out. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“Ruby?”

“Yeah.” Sam took the demon killing knife from where it was sitting among the other weapons and stowed it in his pocket before handing the cards to Dean. “Tell them I’ve made a run into town for beer or something.”

“You going to be okay doing this on your own?”

“I won’t be alone. Cas is coming.”

Dean grumbled and then clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Kill her good, Sammy. Make it hurt.”

“You know it.” Sam slammed the trunk closed and pulled the keys from the lock. He walked around to the driver’s side door and paused. “I’ll be back soon, Dean.”

“I know,” Dean said, not entirely concealing the worry in his expression. “Just… take care of yourself okay?”

“I will.”

Sam climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. As he backed out, he heard a fluttering sound. He glanced to the side and saw Cas sitting in what was usually his seat. “Are you ready, Sam?” he asked.

“More than ready,” Sam said through his teeth, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “It’s time for that bitch to die.”

xXx

Sam’s suffering seemed to Cas to be a constant in their journey into the past. Just as he solved one problem that was dragging him down, another came to take its place. If he’d known in advance that Ellen was going to be at Bobby’s, Cas would have expected Sam to react happily to seeing her, but he hadn’t. He had wept. Cas understood there was more than one reason for tears, but he didn’t think Sam had been crying from joy. He would have liked to question Sam about it, but there were more pressing things for them to be doing, such as killing the betrayer demon.

They rode in silence across town until they came to an area of abandoned warehouses. Sam glanced at Cas as he parked and then threw open the car door and climbed out. They didn’t speak, as Ruby was likely close enough now to hear them, but they communicated without words. Sam nodded slightly to Cas and in return Cas clasped a hand on his shoulder, a show of solidarity in what they were doing. Sam smiled slightly and then his expression became one of grim determination as Cas shielded himself from sight.

Cas went ahead and jerked to a halt at what he saw inside the warehouse. Ruby was there, leaning against a wall and tapping her foot. In the center of the room was a demon, gagged and bound to a chair. Beside him was a plastic bucket with a long blade lying across the rim. Cas understood Ruby’s intentions immediately. Her plan was to return Sam to the demon blood. The demon would be used to give Sam the ample amount to return him to his former strength.

As the door creaked open and Sam stepped inside, Ruby’s face lit up with a smile and she straightened away from the wall.

“Sam,” she said in a consoling voice. “I am so sorry.”

Sam walked into the room, his expression a blank mask. “Ruby.”

“What happened?” she asked. “I heard Dean tied you up in the panic room. I never would have left you alone if I’d known what he would do to you. I’d have kept you safe.”

Sam nodded curtly, eyeing the demon with hunger in his eyes. Cas wasn’t sure it was false. Sam was still only a short time out of his withdrawal. The need for the blood could still be strong, or it could be an act to appease Ruby.

“I heard about Alastair, too,” she said. “That must have been a hell of a trip.”

“It was,” Sam said, eyes still fixed on the bound demon. “Never felt anything like it.”

Ruby run a hand over Sam’s cheek, her fingers lingering on his jaw. “All that power, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Neither did I. It wasn’t until I was facing him that I realized I could do it, and from there it was easy.”

Ruby beamed at him. “That’s good. You’re so much stronger now. You’ll be able to take care of Lilith, no problem.”

Sam smiled grimly. “We just need to find her.”

“We will,” Ruby said. “I’m doing all I can to track her down. But first, you must be thirsty.” She walked over to the bound demon and picked up the knife from the bucket. You ready for this?”

Sam nodded and stepped forward. Cas had a moment of real fear that Sam was going to slip, that he would drink and all their hard work and trial would have been in vain, but then he pulled the knife from his pocket.

“What’s up?” Ruby asked, worry in her tone. “You can’t use that, Sam. You’ll kill it before we can get the blood.”

Sam tapped the blade against his palm. “I know. I can’t kill him, but I can kill you.”

Ruby’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “You don’t want to do that. I don’t know what Dean’s been saying to you, but you don’t want this. You need me.”

“Cas!” Sam shouted, and Cas sprang into action. Revealing himself to Sam’s sight he grabbed Ruby’s arms and pinned them behind her back. She struggled, but she was no match for his strength.

“Sam!”

“I know what you are, Ruby,” Sam said. “I know who you work for and I know your plans. I want you to know, before you die, that it’ll never work. Lilith won’t be killed and Lucifer won’t rise.” He grinned. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.”

He stepped forward onto the ball of his foot and jabbed out with the knife. It sank through Ruby’s chest, into her heart. She let out a strangled cry as the blade pierced her and then fell silent, sagging in Cas’s grip. He released her and she flopped to the floor, dead.

Sam looked down at her with a look of triumph in his eyes. “I did it,” he breathed.

“You did,” Cas said. “How does it feel?”

“Good. I feel free. Like, even without the blood, I was still under her influence. That’s over now.”

Cas smiled at him.

Sam turned to the demon in the chair and sighed. “He’ll have to die, too, won’t he?”

“Yes. We cannot risk him going to Lilith and telling her what you knew.”

The demon’s eyes rolled wildly and he shouted through the gag, but his words were indiscernible. Sam strode over to him and tightened his grip around the hilt of the knife. He hesitated for a moment, and Cas was about to ask him what was wrong, but then Sam’s hand snapped out and plunged the knife into the demon’s throat. Light crackled around the wound and the demon gurgled and bucked for a moment before becoming still.

Sam stared at him for a moment, and this time his expression was clear to read; he regretted it.

“You had to do it,” Cas said.

“I know. I couldn’t let him live, but he wasn’t just a demon, Cas. That was a man, too.” He sighed. “It’s like Ellen and Jo. They’re alive now because I haven’t messed up yet, but this man is dead because I did. He could have been someone’s father or brother. He could have been someone’s Dean, and now he’s dead. It just… I always knew people would have to die in this time, too, but it’s just now I’m seeing the face of it.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam stared him in the eye. “The apocalypse was bad, worse than bad, and I came back here to stop it, but it’s more now. It’s like it has a face, Ellen and Jo’s. The face of the apocalypse is my family, and I just killed someone else’s.”

Cas found he had no response to that. It was true. Sam had just ended a life of someone that was surely loved, but it was for the greater good. The face of the family, Ellen and Jo and everyone else Sam loved, would be saved in part because of this person’s death.

Sam made for the door again. “I’ve got to get back to Dean. You good to clear this up?”

“Of course,” Cas said. “I will take care of it all, including you, Sam.”

Sam turned and smiled. “I know. Thanks, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Ellen made an appearance and Ruby’s a goner. Good times. I really wanted Sam to be the one to do it in this story, as I thought he’d earned his revenge. Ellen was a treat to write. She’s such a rich character, and I miss her so much. One of the best things about writing for me is the fact you can bring out beloved characters and make them alive again. Hope it made good reading.   
> Until next time…  
> Clowns or Midgets xxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jenjoremy for the beta magic and Gredelina1 for the help and support in the writing process.

“C’mon, Sammy, just one more,” Dean wheedled.

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. Dean grinned and raised his glass to the bartender.

She sauntered over to them and pulled out tequila from the rack of bottles behind the bar. As she refilled Dean’s shot glass, she looked at Sam. “Your friend celebrating something?”

“You could say that,” Sam said with a fond smile at Dean who was tossing back his shot.

She glanced at the almost full bottle of beer in front of Sam. “And you’re not in the mood?”

“I’m in the mood, but someone’s got to drive us home,” he replied.

She gave Sam an appraising look. “You don’t have to go tonight, do you? I have a little place upstairs. Your friend can sleep on the couch.”

That wasn’t at all awkward, Sam thought. To be propositioned by someone offering Dean a couch to pass out on while they got to it.

“Yeah,” Dean said, joining the conversation at the exact wrong moment. “Sam’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sam?”

Sam felt his cheeks heating and he ducked his head. “No, Dean. You’re forgetting that Bobby is waiting for us.” He forced himself to look up at the bartender. “Sorry, but we’ve got to get out of town tonight.”

Her lips formed a moue of disappointment. “Who’s Bobby? Your girlfriend?”

Dean cackled in Sam’s ear, draping his arm over Sam’s shoulder and leaning heavily against him. “Yeah. Bobby’s a middle-aged mechanic with a myths and monsters obsession. Sammy’s got a type.”

“Oh. I’ve just gotta…. go.” She hurried off to the other end of the bar.

Dean howled with laughter. “That was awesome.”

“For you,” Sam said, getting to his feet suddenly.

Without Sam to hold him up, Dean slid sideways until he was almost lying across two bar stools. He looked confused at the sudden change of position and peered up at Sam with a furrowed brow.

“C’mon,” Sam said, easing him upright and then tugging him from the stool. “We should get out of here.”

“But we’re celebrating,” Dean moaned.

“We’ve celebrated,” Sam said. “And burning a lock of hair was a pretty loose excuse for you to replace your blood with tequila anyway.”

They had come to Fairfax, Indiana to deal with the vengeful spirit of Dirk McGregor. It had probably been the easiest hunt they’d ever taken. All they’d had to do was find the right bus, snag the lock of hair from the bible and then set fire to it. It hadn’t exactly tasked them and it definitely didn’t merit the drinking session Dean had enjoyed.

“Nah,” Dean said, pushing himself away from Sam and swaying slightly. “We were celebrating the awesomeness that is a do-over—“

“Time to go, Dean,” Sam said curtly. “Bobby’s waiting for us after all.”

“What?”

Sam put an arm around Dean’s shoulder and hissed in his ear. “Cas isn’t here, Dean, which means any other angel could be here listening. We’ve got to be careful.”

Dean pressed a finger to his lips and nodded dramatically. “You can count on me, Sammy. I won’t tell anyone you’re… Oops. Almost slipped.” He grinned.

“I’m glad you’re finding this so funny,” Sam said, heaving Dean’s arm over his shoulder and practically dragging him from the bar.

When the cool, fresh air caught Dean, he whooped, “Whoa, head rush!” and Sam groaned. Dean was going to be a charming passenger for the ride back to Sioux Falls.

They hadn’t parked too far from the bar, so Sam only had to struggle down the street with Dean draped over him a little way before he propped him up against the side of the car and unlocked the door for him. Dean was looking up and down the street with interest, saying, “This is a nice town. We should stay a while.”

“Sure we should,” Sam said distractedly. “Tell me the name of the town and I’ll find us a motel.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Fairbanks? Fairchild? Hell, I don’t know, Fairground?”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, maybe another time, Dean.”

Dean spilled in through the open car door and slumped in his seat. Sam pushed enough of him inside to close the door and then went around to the driver’s side. He climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine.

“Sammy,” Dean groaned.

“Yes, Dean.”

“I’m hungry?”

Sam chuckled. “Just as soon as I’m sure you’re not going to barf up all that tequila, I’ll get you something to eat. Why don’t you try and sleep a little.”

“No can do, little brother. You’re driving which means I have to stay awake and alert so I can stop you from wrapping my baby around a tree.”

“Of course you do,” Sam said in a soothing tone. “How about you just get comfy for now then?”

“That I can do,” Dean said happily. He shifted himself so he was leaning against the door with his head resting on the glass.

Sam pulled the car out of their parking spot and directed them toward the Interstate. Dean lasted for all of five minutes before his grumbles about hunger became snores. Sam glanced to the side and saw his chin lolling against his chest and his lips slightly parted. Sam flipped on the radio and tuned it to an alternative rock station, smiling happily.

Sam drove as long as he could before pulling onto a side road to get some rest. He curled up against his door and used his jacket as a pillow. He didn’t know how long he slept before a hand slapped against his arm. His eyes cracked open to see Dean grinning at him. “Time to switch seats, Sasquatch. You’ve had your fun.”

“You okay to drive?” Sam asked sleepily.

“Would I be trying if I wasn’t?” Dean countered.

Marveling at his brother’s ability to overcome massive amounts of alcohol with ease, Sam slid across the bench seat and rearranged himself comfortably while Dean climbed in and ran his hands lovingly over the steering wheel.

Sam considered sleeping some more, but his dreams hadn’t been exactly restful, so he rooted through the cardboard box of cassettes and found Dean’s most violent rock. He jammed it in the deck and cranked up the volume.

Dean glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Not tired?”

“Don’t want to sleep.”

“Nightmares?”

Sam nodded but didn’t speak. Cas wasn’t there, so he couldn’t go into detail about them even if he’d wanted to. The truth was that Sam was struggling. The memories of his many decades in hell and his months spent soulless were always there, in the back of his mind, but it was worse when he was sleeping, as he had no defense against them. When he was awake, he could throw himself into whatever he was doing and at least try to forget about it. The rest of the time he suffered.

xXx

Sam smiled to himself as he stowed the cans in the cupboards. They’d stopped to pick up groceries to replenish Bobby’s depleted stores on the way home, making a run to refill Bobby’s drinks cabinet at the same time. Dean grumbled and criticized throughout the grocery shopping, only brightening when he saw the treasures on offer in the liquor store. As soon as they’d got the bags into the house, Dean had said something about needing to shower and had promptly disappeared. Sam could hear his voice now, belting out Zeppelin lyrics over the running water.

He heard a rustling sound behind him. He turned, smile already on his lips, only to find it was not his time traveling friend waiting for him but the present, dickish version. His smile disappeared.

“Castiel.”

Castiel nodded slightly. “Sam. I am pleased to see that you have recovered from your recent…troubles.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I’m all better now.” He turned back to the counter, trying to intimate to Castiel that he had better things to be doing than talking to him. “Dean’s primping, so if you’re looking to talk to him, you’ll have to wait a while.”

“I came to talk to you,” Castiel said.

That was new. Sam had always been superfluous to Castiel in this time. Dean was the one the angels wanted. Sam was just a part of the package deal, unwanted until the final moment, necessary to doom the world.

Castiel moved to Sam’s side, too close, shoulder-to-shoulder. Sam couldn’t pretend to not see him so he took a pointed step away and met the angel’s eye. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s Uriel. He is missing. We cannot find him.”

Sam looked innocently surprised. “Where did you leave him? Did you try retracing your steps?”

“I cannot sense him anymore,” Castiel said stiffly and then his voice became toneless again. “Which means he is hiding himself from us or he is dead.”

“Dead? Huh. I’d say I’m sorry but that’d be a lie.”

Castiel scowled at him and then schooled his expression into a mask again. “I do not believe he is dead. Uriel was a great warrior. Something has happened to him. I need your help, Sam.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I thought Dean was the one you’re all pinning your hopes on. What am I supposed to do?”

“You can look for him.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Sure. Because me and Dean riding the highways, whistling out the open window for him, is such a good plan compared to using angels, right?”

“I do not want you to look physically. I want you to use your visions.”

“You really don’t understand, do you? I can’t just close my eyes and summon a vision. They come on their own, and they haven’t come since I got off the blood.”

“You’re lying to me,” Castiel said, crowding into Sam’s space again. “I know you are having visions as you have just returned here from dealing with one. I saw you and Dean burning the hair that tied Dirk McGregor to the earth.”

“So you’ve been watching us,” Sam said. “That’s creepy and a little dumb. Why didn’t you just come say hi?”

Castiel remained silent, and Sam drew his own conclusions.

“You were spying because you think we’re hiding something from you?” He shook his head. “You can’t seriously think we had something to do with Uriel’s disappearance. How the hell could we do _anything_ to him seeing as he’s an angel and we’re humans? Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to shiv the asshole, but I’m kinda handicapped in comparison.”

Castiel glowered at him. “Remember who you are talking to.”

“Oh, I’ve not forgotten,” Sam said darkly. “But you’re all out of luck. I can’t just ‘look’ for Uriel, and I don’t know where he is, so you might as well just flap off.”

“I’m not done,” Castiel said.

Sam sighed heavily. He should have known this was going to come. Castiel wasn’t stupid, and a lot had happened that he’d question, not just visions. Anna had escaped them, Uriel was ‘missing’, and then there was Sam’s miracle recovery after Alastair. Even the dumbest angel would have questions, and Castiel was the farthest thing from dumb.

He heard the shower shut off and knew Dean would be there soon. He wanted to get this conversation out of the way before then as he couldn’t control what Dean said and they’d not come up with a story for Castiel to explain anything that’d been happening. “Fine. Get whatever it is out of your system and then screw off and leave us alone.”

“What happened to Anna?” Castiel asked.

Sam shrugged. “No idea. I wasn’t here when that went down. Bobby told me he got knocked out, and when he woke up, she was gone.”

“You’re lying to me,” Castiel said again.

Sam huffed a laugh. “About what? I wasn’t here; you know that because Dean told me you stopped by the hospital, so what do you think I know?”

Castiel clearly had no answer to that, as he asked, “How were you healed?”

“Medical miracle? I don’t know. I was in the hospital and then I woke up. I’ve got no idea what happened.”

“What ailed you? I could not make sense of it.”

“Dunno. I was unconscious, remember?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you lying to me?”

“Why are you asking me questions I have no way to answer?” Sam countered angrily. He heard footsteps padding down the hall and knew Dean was coming. He spoke in a rush, loudly so his voice would carry to Dean. “I don’t know what happened to Anna. I don’t know how I was healed. I don’t even know what happened to me. I don’t have answers to your questions, so quit asking them!”

Dean came into the room then, hair damp and expression stony. “What’s going on?”

“ _Castiel_ wants to know crap I can’t answer.” He turned back to Castiel. “Here’s an idea. Why not ask Dean? He was actually awake for some of it.”

Dean locked eyes with Castiel. “What do you want to know?”

“How was Sam healed?”

“Medical miracle?” Dean asked and Sam snorted. “I don’t know, Castiel. One minute he was unconscious, the next he was walking and talking. It’s a gift horse. I’m not looking for teeth. Next question.”

“Where is Anna?”

Dean looked confused. “I thought we’d already been over this. You said Lilith took her.”

“I believed she had,” Castiel said. “I have seen her, though. She is an angel again. She seemed to think I should already know what happened to her. She was very shocked when I tried to capture her.”

Crap! Anna had gone looking for Castiel. Sam fought the urge to glance at Dean. He remained looking at Castiel with a look of impatient confusion on his face. “Anna’s an angel? Since when? I thought she was just some girl you wanted to kill.”

“She was a fallen angel. Somehow she got her grace back. Which is strange, as Uriel was in possession of her grace.”

Sam laughed. “That’s two of your questions answered. Uriel is missing and he had Anna’s grace. Anna is an angel again, which means she got it back. She was taken by Lilith, who happens to be a badass demon. Put the clues together and you’ve got a dead angel and a newly powered up one.” Castiel looked pointedly at a spot a few inches from Sam’s face and a curl of realization settled over Sam. He narrowed his eyes. “Which _you_ already worked out, didn’t you?”

Castiel shook his head. “I had no—“

“Don’t lie!” Sam snapped.

Dean moved to stand beside Sam and he placed a hand on Sam’s chest. He could surely feel Sam’s heart pounding against his ribs as anger and fear crept through him. Castiel had worked out what _should_ have happened to Anna because he wasn’t stupid. The same intelligence had brought him here asking his questions under the pretence of need because he knew something was happening. Sam wished he could have a minute with his Castiel; maybe he’d have some idea of what to say to divert his past self from the path of truth.

“Is he right?” Dean asked tonelessly. “Did you already know what happened to Anna?”

Castiel shook his head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t put the pieces together until your brother laid out the facts.”

He was lying, Sam could tell. He wanted to rage at Castiel, to tell him exactly why they were hiding things from him, because he couldn’t yet be trusted to put the fate of the world before his bosses’ manipulations. He couldn’t though, as it would blow the whole plan. Sam had to suck it up and act like Castiel wasn’t being a prize dick.

Dean sighed and raked a hand over his face. “I guess it doesn’t matter then. You know the truth now, and you know we had nothing to do with it. Uriel’s dead and Anna’s on the demons’ team, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it apart from run and duck if she comes close.”

Sam forced a laugh through his anger. “Which will be all kinds of effective.”

“Sam,” Dean said in a warning tone.

“No, your brother is right,” Castiel said. “You would be completely helpless against Anna. All you can do is try your best to avoid her.” He drew a deep breath. “You must be careful.”

“We always are,” Dean said.

Castiel stared into Sam’s eyes for a moment, as if searching for something, some clue to what they were hiding perhaps, and then he shook his head. “I must leave. My superiors will need to be told about Anna.”

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Castiel was already gone, leaving only a faint fluttering sound in his wake.

xXx

When Cas returned to the past he found Sam and Dean sitting on Bobby’s back porch with beers and a radio playing quietly in the background.

He was expecting Dean’s glower at his appearance, but Sam caught him off guard with his look of suspicion.

“Cas?” he said doubtfully.

“Yes. What has happened?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a pointed look and Dean shrugged. Cas understood that they were questioning the version of him they were seeing. Somehow, between the time he last saw them and now, something had happened to make them doubt him.

“In Carthage Ellen and Jo Harvelle were killed in an—“

“We get it,” Sam said quickly. “It’s you. No more.” He glanced at Dean who was pale.

Cas nodded, seeing that Dean needed to hear no more. “What has happened?” he asked again.

“Your dick version paid a visit,” Sam said. “He knows something’s up. Unfortunately, you’re not dumb.”

Cas frowned. “Of course, I’m not.”

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. “Well, he came with a story about how he wanted me to use my visions to track down Uriel, but I could tell he knew that he was dead.”

“How does he know?” Cas asked urgently.

“Don’t worry,” Sam said. “He thinks it was Anna. But the point is, he knows something’s going on. He asked about how I got ‘healed’, too. He’s suspicious.”

Cas considered carefully for a moment. He didn’t think it was likely that his past self would work out what was really happening, but the fact he was questioning things was a problem.

“He’s been hanging around, Cas, without us realizing,” Sam said. “He followed us on our last hunt and we didn’t have a clue.”

“This was another of the hunts you took last time, yes?” Cas asked.

Sam nodded. “The vengeful spirit of a kid I went to school with for a while. We ducked in, burned the hair, and booked it out of there pretty quick.”

It was still too much though, Cas thought. Of course his other self had questions. Sam’s visions should have at least lessened their strength and pinpoint focus now that he was off the blood. The Winchesters were being reckless.

“You cannot do it again,” he said firmly.

Sam looked confused. “Do what?”

“Follow another of your ‘visions’. It is drawing too much suspicion. You must let things happen from now on. We cannot have the host realize what we are doing. They would send you back to your correct time and they would… deal with me.” He didn’t want to think of what they would do to him. The way things were in Heaven now, crimes dealt with swiftly and finally under Michael’s rule, Cas would be punished severely, possibly fatally.

Dean glared at Cas. “So we’re supposed to let people die because you and your buddies can’t be trusted? You know that’s not going to happen, right? Neither of us will just sit back and let people die.”

“I am not asking you to let people die,” Cas said. He would never ask that of the Winchesters now. He knew it was pointless, anyway, no matter what the cause. “I am asking you to not take the cases yourselves. You two are the ones the angels are focused on. You can tell what you know to other hunters and they can take the cases.”

Dean started to speak but Cas barely heard him. His gaze was focused on Sam who was staring out at the junked cars with a deep frown on his brow. “Sam,” he probed.

Sam nodded. “Okay. We’ll do it, but I’m kinda struggling to come up with any hunters we can trust to do this.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked. “We know plenty hunters, and Bobby knows them all.”

“Yes, but they’re going to have questions about how we know so much and why we’re not taking the cases ourselves.”

“Walt and Roy,” Dean said quickly. “They’re dumb as posts but good hunters. We can tell them we scoped it out but got called in on something else when the time comes.”

“No!” Sam said quickly, a look of fear in his eyes. “We can’t use them. We need someone else.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Why can’t we go to them, Sam?”

Sam raked a hand through his hair. “They’re just… We can’t.”

Cas didn’t believe Dean would let it go at that, and was unsurprised when Dean leaned over and nudged Sam’s shoulder with a fist.

“Want to tell me a little more, future boy?” he asked.

Sam drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “They killed us.”

Dean frowned. “What?”

“After I killed Lilith, they heard what I did and what it caused, and they came after us. They got us both, shotguns to the chest.”

“And you’re alive because…?”

“Joshua,” Cas said, saving Sam the pain of explaining about Heaven. “He is an angel, a great angel. He saved you both.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” Dean said, turning to Sam. “What happened to Walt and Roy? We ganked them, right?”

Sam shook his head. “No. They were taken out by a nest of vamps they were going after about a year ago.”

Dean looked satisfied. “Good.”

“The point it, we can’t call on them,” Sam said. “Or Tim’s crew.”

Dean opened his mouth to ask, but Sam shook his head again. “Long story. Another time maybe. What I’m saying, though, is that there aren’t many hunters out there that we can trust to do this without looking too suspicious. We _have_ to do the hunts I know about, otherwise people will die, but Cas is right in saying we can’t do them ourselves.”

For a long time, the only sound was the radio playing quietly in the background, and then Dean locked eyes on Cas. “You can do it. You’ve got the juice to take out anything we can, and you already know it all anyway.”

That wasn’t strictly true. Cas wasn’t aware of all the details of the hunts Sam and Dean had taken during the year after Dean’s return from Hell. He had been otherwise engaged trying to protect the seals most of the time, and it wasn’t as if they spent time reminiscing afterward, but if Sam would give him the information he needed, he could deal with each of the threats. He wouldn’t even need to leave clues in the form of angelic kills, as Sam would be able to tell him how they’d killed each of the creatures previously. It was the simplest and most effective plan. Sam and Dean would be able to rest easy knowing people weren’t dying because they couldn’t take the hunts, and Cas of this time would have less reason to believe Sam’s visions were still as powerful as they were when he was on the blood.

“Cas?” Sam said.

“I can do it,” Cas said. “I will do it.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and Dean nodded.

“That’s one problem dealt with,” Sam said. “But we’ve still got Anna to think of.”

Cas nodded. Anna was currently at risk from all angels since they now believed she was working on the demons’ side.

“What are you thinking, Sam?” Dean asked.

“I think we need to bring her in on the secret. She went to Castiel because she thought he was the one who gave her the grace back. She’s got to know not to do that again, since the dick tried to kill her, but she’s all alone out there now, and she’s got to have questions. If we can find her, we can tell her what’s going on. It might even help to have another angel on our side.”

“Can we trust her though?”

Sam was silent for a moment, and Cas thought he knew what he was thinking. Anna had tried to kill John and Mary Winchester for the good of the world, but there was no need for that now. If they succeeded, there never would be need again.

“Yes,” Sam said. “I trust her to do whatever it takes for the good of the world. If she knows the truth, she can help us. She _will_ help us.”

“I agree,” Cas said. “We will need to find her, of course, and persuade her to come. I don’t know how we will do that when she will surely be on alert for any sign of angels. She will not come if we summon her.”

Sam smiled slightly. “Well…we could always try praying.”

Dean laughed. “Score one for the humans.”

“That might work,” Cas said. “We can try at least.”

“You want to disappear?” Sam asked, looking at Cas. “If she sees you here, she might not stick around.”

Cas knew he was right, so he shielded himself both from humans’ sight and angels’ senses and moved to stand between two junked cars in the yard. He was close enough to see and hear what was happening, but not so close that Anna might arrive on top of him.

Dean looked around, comically twisting his neck to try to catch a glimpse of Cas. “Never going to get used to him just disappearing like that,” he said.

“You will,” Sam said carelessly. He laid his palms flat on his knees and raised his eyes to the sky. “Anna, it’s Sam Winchester. We kinda need to talk to you.” He paused for a moment and then said, “We want to help.”

There was a soft fluttering and Anna appeared standing between them. They both started and craned their necks to look at her.

“Uh, hi,” Sam said awkwardly.

Anna smiled slightly as she moved down the steps to stand in front of them. “You called.”

“Didn’t think you’d answer,” Dean said.

“I did. You said you could help. Help with what?”

Sam looked uncomfortable. “Castiel. We heard he saw you again and we figure you might have a few questions.”

“I do,” she admitted. “Do you know why he was so shocked to see me again after he was the one that forced the mantle of angel upon me again? Also, why did he try to kill me then when it would have been easier when I was still human?”

Dean grinned at Sam. “This is all you, Sammy.”

Sam drew a breath. “Okay. It’s kinda complicated, but the answer to both of your questions is that it wasn’t the same angel both times. The one that gave you your grace again, basically saving your life, is Castiel from a few couple years in the future. The Castiel of this time is the one that tried to kill you.”

Anna looked at him blankly. “There are two Castiels?”

Dean laughed. “Two Sams apparently, too. It’s damn unbelievable, right?”

Sam glowered at him. “It sounds stupid, I know, but it’s all true. Cas and I came back in time to fix what’s happening in our time. Cas took my soul and stuffed it in my body of this time so we could change things.”

“I would like to believe you,” Anna said, “but I _know_ Castiel. I fought alongside him for millennia, and I know he would never disobey like that. He could never have received Heaven’s sanctions for it. You cannot change the future. There are rules.”

“Cas isn’t the same man you knew,” Sam said. “He actually Fell for the sake of the world. Trust me, I’m not lying.”

Anna’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “He _Fell_?”

“He did, and it killed him. He was bought back, obviously, as a full angel again, but he still suffered. He’s not the same, Anna.”

Cas watched her face as she mulled it over in her mind. She was silent for a long time and then she nodded decisively. “Okay. I believe you, but I have to ask, what can be bad enough for Cas, the most faithful son of God I ever knew, to turn his back on Heaven like this?”

Cas knew the time was right for him to reveal himself. He stopped shielding himself, and he saw her stiffen as she sensed him. Her blade dropped into her hand.

“I will not harm you, sister,” he said gently as she spun to look at him. “I only want to explain.” Cas’s own blade slid into his hand and he crouched slowly and placed it on the ground and stepped back from it. “You are armed, I am not. Will you listen to me now?”

Anna was still tensed and her grip around the hilt of her sword was tight, but she nodded for him to continue.

Cas braced himself and then began the long tale of the future. He told her everything, sparing Sam none of the shame of his failure, because she knew him so well that she would sense it if he tried to conceal anything. He told her of his confusion and indecision as he began to doubt Heaven and then the absolute fear as he finally tore himself from Heaven’s will and Fell. He told her of Michael and Lucifer’s aborted battle and Sam’s sacrifice. He spoke of Raphael and the war and his damned deal with Crowley.

When he came to a stop, Anna was staring at him wide-eyed. “You made a deal with a demon?”

Cas bowed his head. “I was desperate. I thought it was the only way. It wasn’t until I stopped and listened to my friends that I realized how wrong I was.”

“And now you need my help, to do what exactly?” she asked.

“Protect Sam and Dean,” Cas said. “Myself of this time is growing suspicious, and I cannot be here with them all the time. I have to return to my own time to deal with Crowley and the people I left behind. I cannot risk Crowley acting without me. I need you to watch over them. Sam especially. The demons will be desperate now that he has voluntarily stopped drinking the blood. We would be stupid to believe they do not have a backup plan.”

Anna nodded thoughtfully. “I can help keep him safe.”

Cas sighed with relief. He had always had faith that they would succeed, he would never have risked bringing Sam to this time otherwise, but now he had certainty. With two angels working for the same goal alongside Sam and Dean, they would succeed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jenjoremy for the beta job, Gredelina1 for the help and support and you all for supporting the story.

**_Chapter Fifteen_ **

 

When Cas arrived in Bobby’s library, he found Bobby and Balthazar nose to nose in the middle of a heated argument. They didn’t even seem to notice his arrival; their focus was on each other.

“I don’t want you to _stay_ there!” Bobby growled. “Just go and tell him we need to talk!”

“And I’ve told you I can’t just pop back and forward whenever I feel like it, you primitive ape!” Balthazar raged. “I was given a task and I am not going to abandon it.”

Cas cleared his throat and their gazes snapped to him.

Bobby glowered. “About damn time!”

“Cas, darling, please explain to your marmoset that I can’t just hop through time to pass on messages,” Balthazar said wearily.

“What has happened?” Cas asked Bobby.

“Hold up a minute,” Bobby said. “Dean needs to be here for this.” He stared pointedly at Balthazar who threw his hands up.

“Let me guess, you want me to babysit Robot Boy down there so you can have a secret conference with Cas here?”

“Balthazar, please,” Cas said softly.

“Fine,” Balthazar huffed. With a slight fluttering sound he was gone.

A moment later, footsteps could be heard plodding up the wooden stairs that led from the basement. Dean trudged into the room, looking pale and exhausted. As he caught sight of Cas standing beside Bobby, his eyes widened and a little color flooded his face. “Sam?” he asked hopefully.

Cas knew what he was asking; he wanted to know whether Cas had brought Sam back. He shook his head sadly. “Not yet.”

Dean cursed.

Cas turned back to Bobby. “What message did you want to send with Balthazar?”

Bobby waved a hand vaguely at Dean and said, “Well, I need you to talk to him for one. He’s wrecked and nothing _I_ say is making a blind bit of difference. The other problem is in the basement.”

“Balthazar?” Cas asked.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “No, Cas, Sam – or the thing that used to be Sam.”

Cas looked from one to the other, and when no explanation seemed forthcoming, he said, “Please explain.”

“He’s up to something,” Bobby said. “Sam, I mean. I’ve been down there a couple times to talk to Dean, and I can see it as clear as Dean can. He’s plotting something, and I’d bet my life that it’s some kind of escape plan. He’s quit pushing for pee breaks and food the way he was before. He’s not even talking that much. He just sits there, thinking.”

“He is still restrained though?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “But that didn’t make a difference last time. Me and Bobby locked him down when he was on the demon blood, but he got out easy enough.”

Cas forced himself to not look away as he wanted to. Sam had gotten out of the panic room that first time only because he had let him out. He had doomed the world then because he was ordered to. He couldn’t tell them that now though. It would break their trust in him, and with Sam in the past, he needed their trust more than anything. Perhaps it was cowardly, too, but he had never claimed to be brave.

“Balthazar is here now,” he said instead. “It doesn’t matter what Sam is planning; he will not succeed.”

“Yeah, because he’s so reliable,” Bobby scoffed. “He spends so much time drinking, he puts me to shame.”

Cas shook his head. “That is not a problem for Balthazar. He is an angel. He could drink a proverbial liquor store and still be unaffected.”

“You managed to get plastered,” Dean said pointedly.

“That was different. I was fallen at the time. Trust me, both of you, Balthazar is more than capable of keeping you safe and keeping Sam restrained.” He turned his attention to Dean. “You need to rest, Dean. Keeping watch over Sam is a pointless exercise with Balthazar here. All you will do is damage yourself, and Sam wouldn’t want that.”

“Told ya,” Bobby murmured.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded. “Okay. I hear ya. It’s just…”

“It gets kinda hard to keep that in mind when you’re here all the time,” Bobby finished for him. “We have to look at that dick downstairs and deal with your buddy flapping around like a fairy on crack and all the time we’re wondering what’s really happening to our Sam and knowing we can’t do a damn thing to help him.”

Cas could easily imagine how that felt. Even though he was confident in Anna’s ability to protect Sam and Dean, he was already aching to be in the past with them where he could keep an eye on them.

“Speaking of our Sam,” Bobby said. “How’s he doing?”

Cas considered carefully. “He is…well.”

“You don’t sound too sure, Cas,” Dean observed.

“He is. The fallout from his time in hell is making itself known, but he is dealing with it better than any of us could have expected. I think it helps that he has a mission to accomplish. It keeps him focused on the important things when he is awake. When he is asleep it is harder, but I do what I can to help with that.”

“What’s happening with that?” Dean asked. “I don’t really have any changed memories past Ellen visiting and you coming by and screwing with us. The rest seems to be pretty much the same.”

“That’s probably because not much has changed yet,” Cas said.

“I’ve got a question,” Bobby said. “How long’s Sam going to be gone? If it works, and the time comes and goes for him killing Lilith, will he come back?”

Cas looked awkward. “I am not sure. There is not an appointed time for Lilith to die other than the last of the seals being broken. Sam may have to stay there past the time of her original death.” He hesitated before continuing. “It might take a long time.”

Dean suddenly launched himself at Cas and gripped him around the throat. It wasn’t even a little uncomfortable physically, but it was a little discomfiting for Cas to be held like this by his friend.

“Are you telling me he might never come back? That we’ve done all this, risked all this, and we’re stuck with that dick in the basement forever? Sam gave up everything to help you, Cas!”

“Sam will not be there forever. I will be able to return him to his body when the timelines match up again.”

“That’s years, Cas!” Bobby said angrily. “He’s going to have to live through all that before he can come back?”

“I cannot be sure,” Cas said. “I would hope not.”

Dean laughed harshly. “Hope? We’re putting all out faith in hope? In case you didn’t notice, that hasn’t worked out too well for us before.”

Bobby laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder and Dean released Cas. Dean stepped back, hands fisted at his sides, and Cas knew he was fighting the urge to attack him.

“What’s Lilith even doing?” Bobby asked. “With Sam off the blood, she’s got to be going crazy.”

Cas did look away this time. “I am not certain.”

He couldn’t see Dean’s expression, eyes fixed on the wall as they were, but he could hear the anger in his tone. “You know something, though, right? You’re not just flapping around playing reruns in the past with Sam.”

Cas looked up, guilt sweeping through him. “It is difficult.”

“Yeah, we get that,” Bobby said. “But tell me you’ve been at least _trying_ to find Lilith and see what she’s up to.”

Cas shook his head. “We haven’t had the opportunity to look for her yet.”

Bobby closed his eyes for a long moment, seeming to summon patience. When he spoke, his voice was harsh. “How do you plan on ever getting Sam back here if you’re not even attempting to stop Lilith?”

Cas didn’t know what to say. It was harder when he was in the past. Then they lived minute by minute, attempting to avert and save. He had given the past version of his self more thought as a foe than he had Lilith. Only now, when it was pointed out to him by one of his fallible human friends, did he realize just how foolish he had been, how foolish they had all been.

“Didn’t think of that, huh?” Bobby said sardonically.

“I am thinking of it now,” Cas said honestly. “I will make sure we are _all_ thinking of that now.“ He turned to Dean, knowing he owed him the apology more than anyone. “I am sorry, Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “Just get it done. Get Sam back here.”

“I will do my best,” he vowed. “And you must rest. Sam is safe here with Balthazar watching him. I will speak to him before I leave to reaffirm the importance of what he is doing.”

“Don’t worry,” Bobby said. “I’ll make sure he sleeps.”

Cas nodded and made his way out of the room to the hall and down the stairs to the basement. Balthazar was waiting for him in the door to the panic room.

“Cas,” he said in greeting. “You done reassuring the monkeys?”

“Don’t call them that,” Cas said firmly.

Balthazar raised his hands in front of him. It would have looked repentant had it not been for his wide smile.

Inside the panic room, there was the clinking of chains as Sam shifted on the cot. Cas looked around Balthazar and saw Sam staring at them with a piercing gaze. Cas stared back into his eyes, seeing the emptiness there.

“You need to keep close to him, Balthazar,” he said quietly in Enochian. “I don’t know what he is thinking or planning, but he is cunning.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ve got my eye on him.”

Cas walked into the room and approached Sam. He stared down at him and Sam stared resolutely back. “What are you planning?” Cas asked.

Sam smiled grimly. “You mean you haven’t guessed already? What’s wrong with you, Cas? You used to be so smart.”

Cas disregarded his words. “I know enough to know that it pertains to your desire to escape. It will not happen, Sam.”

Sam yawned widely. “If you say so.”

Cas glowered at him. “Do you remember Zachariah, Sam? You must. Having both legs broken and your lungs removed leaves an impression.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” Sam asked. “Bit redundant, don’t you think? It’s not like I can even _feel_ it.”

“No, not scare. I am warning you.” He turned his attention to Balthazar. “If he looks like he is even thinking of hurting Bobby or Dean, break his legs.”

Sam laughed. “Like you’d dare. Can’t go hurting _me,_ not poor Sammy. Dean would never let you.”

“That’s where you are wrong,” Cas said. “You’re not Sam, and Dean is well aware of that.”

“And,” Balthazar said with glee, “you’re laboring under the assumption that I give a fig what Dean thinks. I’d break your spine for sheer amusement if Cas would let me.”

“Spine,” Cas said thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s much better. If he becomes a problem, do that.”

Balthazar smiled beatifically. “Thank you, Cas. I really and truly appreciate it.”

Cas smiled down at Sam and then spread his wings and took flight.

xXx

Cas didn’t have to search hard to find Lilith when he returned to the past. Her essence, dark and twisted as it was, was like a beacon warning him away. Having some experience with the places she usually frequented when topside, he was expecting to find her terrorizing a family in the meat suit of a small child or living in the lap of luxury in some gated community. He was not expecting her to be in the very abandoned prison that Cas and Crowley were using in the future. The cells were empty and the filth not quite so plentiful as it was in Cas’s time, but the stench was the same and the rats still skittered across the floor.

She wasn’t alone. Cas could hear her speaking in soft sultry tones and a familiar gravel voice replying with a strong cockney accent. Keeping himself shielded and protected, Cas followed the voices to the abandoned room Crowley would use to interrogate creatures in the future.

Lilith was standing in the middle of the scat filled room. She was in the body of a young woman with long, wavy blonde hair and startling grey eyes. Crowley was walking around the room, stepping carefully around the mounds of droppings left behind by the rats.

“I don’t know what to tell you, love,” he said. “It’s not like I’ve got the Winchesters’ secret journals to read through to make sense of what they’re doing. All I know is that Winchester Jumbo Size was locked up and dried out.”

“And Ruby?” Lilith asked in that same soft voice.

Crowley smiled. “We think she’s dead. Hax found her meat suit burned out in Sioux Falls with a wound that looked a lot like it had come from the Winchesters’ zippy knife. Can’t say I’m sorry. She was a pain in the ass, teaming up with the Winchesters the way she did.” He eyed Lilith curiously. Her lips were downturned and a frown marred her perfect brow. “I thought you’d be throwing a party knowing she’s out of the way.”

Lilith’s eyes flashed milky white and Cas felt the anger crackling around her like an aura. Crowley seemed to sense the same. “Not that you have to throw a party,” he said. “It’s not like I’m telling you what to do. I’m just saying you seem awful put out that the little bitch has bit it.”

“Crowley, I am going to trust you now,” Lilith said.

“You didn’t trust me already?”

“Don’t interrupt!” she snapped. “Ruby was mine, not the Winchesters’, _mine_. She has been from the beginning. How do you think she got out of the pit so fast? She has been working for our cause from the beginning.”

“Hold up!” Crowley said. “You’re telling me _Ruby_ has been on our team from the get go and I’m only just learning about it now?”

Lilith’s hand snapped out and she gripped Crowley around the throat, lifting him a foot from the floor. “You know what I tell you _when_ I decide to tell you and not before. Ruby was mine and no one else’s. She hooked Sam onto the blood because we needed him on the blood! And now she is _dead_!”

“Sorry,” Crowley said hoarsely.

“You should be sorry. We all should. With Alastair and Ruby dead and Sam Winchester off the blood, our plan is in tatters.”

“What are you going to do?” Crowley rasped. Lilith released him and he staggered back as his feet met the floor again.

She drew a deep breath and pushed her long hair back from her face. “It’s not over yet. I have not worked so hard for so long to lose now. I must simply work faster.”

“The seals?” Crowley said, massaging his throat.

“Are breaking,” Lilith said. “I admit they are not breaking at the pace that I would have liked, but that is easily remedied. No more shock and awe. I will break them myself. And then… Well, Sam Winchester is not our last great hope.”

“He’s not?” Crowley asked. “Then who is?”

Lilith smiled enigmatically and disappeared.

xXx

Sam knew the time was coming for him to tell Dean about Adam, and he was caught in a maelstrom of emotion about it. In this time, Dean wasn’t the hardened man he had left behind. This Dean didn’t yet have the same awareness of his father’s failings that had come from Dean being a father to Ben for a year. This version of Dean would be wrecked by the knowledge that John had another son they never knew about, a son that he had been a father to in a way he had never been for Sam and Dean.

Sam didn’t need to tell him it all. He could just say Adam was a friend they’d made that got dragged into their mess, but that felt disloyal to Adam. He had lost everything because of them. He was dragged to Hell by Sam because of his bloodline. Shouldn’t Dean know it all?

A sharp pain in his shin brought his attention back to the present. He looked up and saw Dean sitting across the table of Bobby’s kitchen, frowning at him. There was an untouched plate of eggs in front of him that had taken a cold and rubbery look.

They were alone. Bobby was meeting up with another hunter friend to exchange some lore books and weapons and Anna was around somewhere, keeping watch in her own way. Cas was… somewhere else, either in the future or somewhere in this time doing whatever it was he did when he wasn’t with Sam and Dean.

“What?” Sam asked, leaning down to rub his leg.

“I’ve been talking to you for like five minutes and you haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Which brings me to my next question,” Dean said. “What were you thinking about that’s got you looking like that?”

Sam leaned back in his chair and let out a big breath. Now was the time. He had to do it.

At that moment there was a fluttering sound and Cas appeared in the doorway between kitchen and library. Sam’s favorite time hopping angel was back. He sighed with relief, both at the sight of his friend back with them and because Cas’s arrival would delay the Adam conversation.

Cas did not look relieved, nor did he smile in greeting. He looked dour and worried.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. “Where have you been?”

“I returned to our time to check on things and to fill them in on what we have been doing,” Cas said. “And then I found Lilith.”

“You _found_ Lilith?” Dean asked. “Since when were we looking for her? I thought the idea was to keep her as far from Sam as possible.”

“That was, and still is, my intent,” Cas agreed. “But, as was pointed out to me, we should be aware of what she is doing. Otherwise we will have no idea when it is safe for Sam to leave and return to his own time.”

Sam hadn’t considered that. He had been so focused on keeping sane with Hell batting around his brain and staying off the blood and Adam that he hadn’t thought of the big picture in a while. Now the possibility that he would have to stay here indefinitely occurred to him. It wasn’t the worst prospect, he could and would do it for the sake of the world, but it would suck. He wanted to get back to the right time, to the correct version of his brother and Bobby. He wanted it to be over for them as much as him.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “what is Lilith doing?”

“I saw her speaking with Crowley.”

“Who’s Crowley?” Dean asked.

“Demon,” Sam said shortly. “Real dick bag. I’ll tell you about him later. Go on, Cas.”

“They know Ruby is dead—”

“Good,” Dean said in a snarl. “I want that bitch to know her pet spy is gone.”

“–and they know Sam is not drinking the blood now,” Cas said, disregarding Dean’s interruption.

“How did she seem?” Sam asked, then seeing Dean’s incredulous look, he explained his question. “I don’t mean was she pissed, of course she was. I want to know if she looked I’m totally screwed level of pissed. If I’m off the blood, I can’t kill her, so her plan’s up in smoke.”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t think it is. She said you weren’t her only hope.”

Sam cursed loudly and fluidly.

“She give you any clue what her backup plan is?” Dean asked.

“No. She disappeared. I tried to track her but was unable to. She can only have returned to Hell.”

Sam got to his feet and walked away from them both, hands coming to tangle in his hair. It was all so wrong. He had come back, almost destroying his relationship with Dean, to fix things because he thought he was the only one who could stop it, and now he was hearing that he wasn’t. Lilith had a Plan B. What the hell were they supposed to do now? They couldn’t kill her, they couldn’t fight her, so they were screwed.

A hand came down on his shoulder and he spun around, almost expecting Lilith to be there to gloat, but it was Dean. He looked concerned but not scared. He didn’t understand because, although he had been told, he hadn’t lived through what would happen if Lilith succeeded.

“It’s okay, Sam,” he said. “We’ll work it out.”

“How?” Sam asked desperately. “We don’t know what she’s planning now. We can’t do anything to stop her. You don’t know what it’s like, Dean, if the apocalypse comes. And what if I can’t do it again?”

“Do what?” Dean asked.

“Lucifer!” Sam almost shouted. “It was pure chance that I got him in the cage the last time; I was fighting from the minute I said yes to overpower him, and it was almost too late. I barely did it. What if I can’t do it this time? They’ll fight and the world will burn and it will be all my fault!”

“Whoa!” Dean grasped Sam by the shoulders and held him in place. “Calm down, Sammy. You’re jumping right ahead to the end of the movie here and I’m still on the opening credits. Just take a breath.”

Sam did as he was bidden, holding it for a long moment before releasing it, and his heart slowed its racing slightly. He nodded and Dean released him.

“Okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. It’s just… Dean, it’s going to get so bad.”

“Only if she dies,” Dean said. “Maybe you’re not the last hope of the demons after all, but that doesn’t mean we’ve lost already. We just need to find out what’s happening and stop it. We’ve got two angels on our side now. As soon as that bitch pokes her head out of the ground, Cas and Anna will know and they’ll find out what’s she doing. This isn’t the end yet. We’ve still got a shot at this, right, Cas?”

Cas walked forward and though he nodded and said, “It is not over, Sam,” he looked doubtful.

“See?” Dean said. “Even angel boy thinks it’ll work out.”

Sam shook his head dolefully. How was it going to work out? How could he live through the apocalypse again and win this time? He didn’t know if he had the strength to overpower Lucifer again.

“Sam,” Cas said gently. “We do not have to stay.”

“What?” Dean barked as Sam’s gaze snapped to Cas.

“If Lilith succeeds, if she finds a way to break the final seal and Lucifer rises, Sam and I need not stay. As it is at the moment, things change in the future when we change something in the past. If we were to leave now and return to our time, your own Sam would be returned to you and he would take over. Events would transpire as they did last time, with Dean having more knowledge it is true, but still, much as they did last time.” He looked pointedly at Sam. “The events of Stull Cemetery would progress as they did before.”

Sam nodded, understanding at once. He could go back to his own time, leaving this crap-storm behind, and Lucifer would still be taken care of.

“What’s he saying, Sam?” Dean asked in a harsh tone.

Sam sighed. “If we go back now, I will still beat Lucifer.”

“But you beating Lucifer means you going to Hell, right?”

Cas nodded. “Yes. Sam would beat Lucifer and take him to the cage again if left to follow his path.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “You can’t seriously think I’ll let that happen.”

“You did before,” Cas said.

“Cas…” Sam said, not knowing what else to say.

Dean’s expression became murderous and he advanced on Cas. Sam stepped between then, putting a hand on Dean’s chest. He could feel his harsh breaths hammering against his palm. “I don’t know what happened then,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know what drove me to let that happen, but you can sure as hell know now that I will never let that happen again. I won’t let my brother do that.”

“Don’t you think that is his choice?”

“His choice?” Dean laughed harshly. “His choice whether or not to throw himself into Hell for so long he needs a damn wall in his head to keep the memories out? No it’s not. No one gets to make that choice.”

“You did,” Cas pointed out. “You sold your soul, knowing that it would lead to you going to Hell.”

Dean looked like he was going to slug Cas. He pushed against Sam, and Sam changed his grip to his shoulders instead to hold him back. “Both of you stop! Dean, we’re not at that point yet, so let’s just stow it for now. Cas, give it a rest.”

Dean was panting but he nodded, glare still fixed on Cas.

“Okay,” Sam said. “We’re not talking about this anymore. Cas, we can’t go back yet. If Lilith does succeed, I’ll be needed here to save lives. The things I know can save a lot of people, Jo and Ellen for example. I can’t leave knowing that doing that means they die.” Cas opened his mouth, probably to argue, but Sam spoke over him. “I’m staying as long as I need to. Down to the wire if that’s what it takes.”

Cas nodded slowly. “If that is what you want.”

“It is,” Sam said resolutely. “Now, Cas, you need to watch for Lilith. When she comes topside again, we need to know about it. Maybe if we watch her close enough, we can stop her. Anna can stay with us so we’re at least warned if she’s coming. There’s things me and Dean need to do in the meantime.”

“What?” Cas asked, his brow furrowed. “What can possibly be more important than Lilith now?”

“Adam.” Sam said simply.

“The guy you were in Hell with?” Dean asked.

“Not just that,” Sam said. “Adam was…” He sucked in a breath. “Adam _is_ our brother.”

xXx

Ten minutes later, Cas was gone and Sam and Dean were sitting opposite each other at the table with mugs of coffee in their hands. Sam had added a short measure of whiskey to Dean’s for the shock.

“When you say brother…” Dean said.

“I mean half-brother, really,” Sam clarified. “Flesh and blood relation though.”

Dean raked a hand over his face. “You’re going to need to give this to me in small words. My brain only seems to be working on half power.

Sam smiled slightly. “Okay… early nineties, Dad was hunting a ghoul in Minnesota. He got banged up and went to the ER. I’m guessing the nurse took a shine to him as nine months later, Adam was born.”

“Did Dad know?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. When Adam was twelve he got the contact details from his mom and called Dad up. I guess Dad came by and met up with him and they kinda built a relationship from that. Dad kept Adam in the dark about the whole supernatural world; he was just a regular dad.”

Dean shook his head sadly. “Of course he was.”

“None of that really matters,” Sam said. “The problem is that the ghoul Dad took out had kids and they’re going to go after Adam and his mom and kill them soon. We’ve got to take them out.”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly. “I’m with you on that, brother or not he needs protecting, but I’ve got to ask, how did he end up in the cage with you if he was dead?”

“The angels bought him back,” Sam said. “They knew Michael’s first choice vessel wasn’t going to crack, so they used Adam as a backup plan. The poor kid was dragged out of Heaven and Michael took him over.” Sam shrugged. “Crap went down and Adam got dragged in with me and Lucifer. I didn’t want to do it. I had no choice.”

“I get that,” Dean said quickly. “It wasn’t your fault, Sammy.”

“Maybe not that particular part of it, but the rest, yeah, that’s all on me.”

Dean stared into his eyes for a long moment, and Sam was sure he was weighing up whether or not it was worth arguing with him. He seemed to decide against. His laid his palms flat on the table and asked something else. “Sam, you said Adam wasn’t the first choice vessel for Michael but the other wasn’t going to crack. Who was the other?”

He already knew the answer, Sam could tell. It still cost him something to meet his brother’s eyes as he answered though. “You were, Dean. I was Lucifer’s and you were Michael’s. It was a bloodline thing. That’s how Michael was able to take Adam instead.”

Dean looked down at the tabletop. “Why would I do that? Say no and let the kid do it instead?”

“You didn’t know he’d take Adam,” Sam said. “Michael wasn’t able to start the fight without a vessel. Lucifer already had one, so you couldn’t say yes without screwing the world. Then I guess you lost hope. You ran from me and Cas and went to find Michael but Cas found you. We got you back here and locked you down in the panic room. Then Adam was resurrected and you thought you _really_ had to do it.” Sam shook his head dolefully, remembering the desperation of those moments. “A lot of stuff happened and you got down to the point of saying yes, but at the last minute you changed your mind. Me and you escaped, but Adam didn’t make it out. There was no one there to stop him from saying yes. He had no choice.”

“Sounds like I really screwed up,” Dean said.

“You’re talking to the man who screwed up the whole world, Dean,” Sam said seriously. “You lost hope and _almost_ made a big mistake. I was arrogant and stupid and started the apocalypse. What you did kinda pales compared to that.”

“You made a mistake, too,” Dean said doggedly and when Sam shook his head he went on. “You did, Sam. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”

Sam didn’t want to have that conversation now. Dean could say it was a mistake and forgive him all he liked, but it didn’t change a thing for Sam. Dean hadn’t lived through it. He didn’t know what it would be like. He couldn’t understand just how much Sam’s mistake had cost them because he hadn’t been there yet.

xXx

In the end, it wasn’t much of a challenge. Anna was able to trace the ghouls to a small town called Mountain Lake not far from Windom. Sam and Dean found them just before dawn in a mausoleum in the town’s cemetery, feeding from a recently deceased elderly man. They were in the forms of a young man and woman who looked like they could have been related. Looking at them, knowing that those were the faces of a meal, was disturbing for Sam, as he could remember Adam and his mother’s faces as they fed on him, as he realized it was too late to save his brother.

There was no question about whether they were the ghouls that had been targeting Adam as, the moment they saw Sam and Dean, they hissed, “Winchesters” and prepared to attack.

The male came at Sam, hands clawed and lips pulled back in a snarl. Sam raised the shotgun and aimed carefully between the eyes. As he pulled the trigger, the ghoul’s head disappeared in a spray of blood and brain. At his side, Dean pulled his trigger and the female ghoul went down.

They doused the bodies in gasoline and Dean dropped a lit book of matches onto the puddle. Fire flared and the flames licked along the floor to the ghouls, igniting them with a roar.

When they stepped out of the mausoleum, Anna was waiting for them. “Where next?” she asked.

Sam spoke before Dean. “University of Wisconsin.”

Anna smiled slightly, and before Dean could muster a protest, they were moving. As soon as Sam’s feet touched the ground again, he looked around and saw that they were standing outside a large building with _Ebling Library_ carved into the stone above the wide double doors. There were a couple benches on either side of the door and Sam walked over to one and sat down.

Dean hesitated for a moment before following and thumping down beside Sam. “Sam, what exactly are we doing here?” he asked.

Though Sam was sure he already knew the answer, he replied anyway. “This is Adam’s college.”

“So? What are we doing here?”

Sam didn’t bother to answer. At the moment the doors opened and two young men stepped out. “How did you know?” Sam asked Anna.

She smiled. “Blood leads to blood. He wasn’t hard to find.”

“Thank you.”

Sam watched as Adam strolled along the path away from them, chatting to his friend. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and books tucked under his arm. He turned a corner and Sam got a good look at his face. The last time Sam had seen Adam he had been wracked with pain as Lucifer and Michael tore at him. He had been screaming and crying, an absolute opposite to the man that Sam saw now. His eyes were a little red and there were shadows under them, the results of an all-nighter study session. Sam remembered the feeling from another life. Adam was alive and free in a way Sam had never seen before. Sam felt happier than he had in a long time seeing him living his life the way he was supposed to: a life without ghouls or angels or Hell.

The emotion must have shown in his eyes as Dean said, a little bitterly, “He’s just a kid, Sam.”

“Not to me,” Sam said. “He’s family to me.”

Dean scoffed but Sam didn’t mind. Adam was just another thing Dean couldn’t understand.

Adam walked out of sight and Sam sighed.

“Are you ready to leave?” Anna asked.

Sam nodded. “Back to Bobby’s please.”

There was a feeling of weightlessness and then they came to rest in Bobby’s library. Sam had all of a moment of happiness before it all went wrong.

“Anna!” a voice said, and Sam heard Anna’s shocked gasp.

Castiel was standing in the kitchen. His expression was a combination of confused and angry as he looked at her. He was wearing his tie. His blade dropped into his hand and Anna’s did the same.

“I don’t want to fight you, Castiel,” she said.

“I do,” Castiel said. “And yet I will not. I have another task to complete now.”

He vanished from sight for a split second and appeared again behind Dean. He clapped a hand on his shoulder and said in a dour tone. “You need to come with me.”

Dean’s eyes widened and perhaps he shouted Sam’s name, Sam couldn’t be sure. Sam spun on his heel, shouting his brother’s name, but it was too late. Dean and Cas were gone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta’ing this and Gredelina1 for helping me get it written. This is

**_Chapter Sixteen_ **

 

Cas followed Crowley for days, but the demon gave nothing away about Lilith’s plan. Cas was beginning to wonder if he even knew anything. He seemed preoccupied with making his deals, damning souls to the pit. Cas hated to watch; he wanted to intervene, to tell the people to run, that nothing could be worth their soul, but he had to remain hidden.

It occurred to him that if he killed Crowley, the demon wouldn’t be there to team up with later, thereby saving that part of the future. That had been Cas’s original intention in plotting with Sam, to save himself from needing to make that deal with the King of Hell. But it had become so much more than that now. They were stopping the apocalypse, saving not only the lives of people he cared for, but also millions he didn’t even know the names of. Killing Crowley would not achieve that. Besides, with the smallest chance that they may fail still there, Crowley was needed. They knew how he operated and behaved, and they knew how he managed Hell. He was a good ruler, if such a thing existed when you were speaking of Hell.

 _And,_ a small voice whispered to Cas, _if you do fail, you will need him to open Purgatory. How else will you defeat Raphael?_

Cas tried to ignore that voice.

Each time Crowley relocated, Cas had to wait for him to arrive at his new destination before he could find him again. Though he wasn’t as nearly as powerful as Lilith, Crowley was still a higher-level demon, and it made him easier to track than a demonic foot soldier. He had just left Cas in the middle of an abandoned crossroads just outside of Lincoln, Nebraska, having checked in with one of his salesmen, and Cas was waiting for his essence to reveal itself. When it happened, Cas followed it to an alley in Houston. In Crowley’s hands was a silver goblet, filled almost to the brim with blood. The donator of the blood was on the dirty ground at Crowley’s feet with garbage bags and discarded litter, his throat slit into a wide, gaping smile.

“Where?” Crowley asked.

The blood bubbled and Cas heard a voice respond. “Peoria, Illinois. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Crowley said cheerfully.

Cas was already in motion. He spread his wings and took flight. He could feel Lilith’s presence, and he honed in on it, allowing it to lead him to where he needed to be. He came to rest in a vast cemetery. Marble headstones were dotted around among the grander statues of angels and cherubs.

Lilith was standing beside one of the graves, her hair glinting in the early morning light like the dew on the grass. Cas looked around, wary of other demons or angels, but there were none. They were alone in the place for a moment before Crowley arrived.

“Lilith,” he said, “pleasure to see you as always. What can I do for you this time?”

“For me? Nothing,” Lilith said. “I just thought you’d earned the right to see the plan come together.”

Crowley glanced around. “Okay,” he said slowly. “And the plan comes together in a graveyard why?”

Cas already knew the answer. He could hear the scrabbling and he could see the earth bulging slightly as the occupant of the grave forced his or her way to the surface. He had seen this once before. After he had saved Dean, he had waited at that grave for him to emerge. It hadn’t occurred to him then to help Dean’s passage back to the world. He had watched as Dean dragged himself from his own grave, unmindful of the trauma of something like that. He would never do that again, not to a friend or foe, but he couldn’t help this person without alerting Lilith and Crowley to his presence.

His eyes found the grave marker and as he read the name, he felt a shudder sweep through him. He knew this person, or more accurately knew of her. Ava Wilson. She had been one of Azazel’s special children. Dragged into Cold Oak with the first group, she had fought and won each bout until Sam’s group came, and then she had been killed by Jake Talley. For a moment Cas wondered how she had come to be buried here, in a respectable grave, when by rights she should still be rotting in South Dakota, and then he realized it could only have been Sam. Despite what she had done to others, despite what she had tried to do to him, he would not leave her body for animals to pick over. It would have been simple for him, an anonymous 911 call and she would have been returned to her family. It was so like Sam that it was obvious.

The earth broke and fingers scrabbled at the surface, trying to find purchase. Lilith glanced at Crowley. “This is taking too long.”

Crowley bent and dug his fingers into the earth. His straightened, dragging Ava out by the wrist. When he released her, she fell to her hands and knees, panting. She was smeared with the dirt of her grave and her eyes were wide as she looked up at Lilith.

Lilith’s eyes were white as she looked down at Ava and said, “My name is Lilith and I have work for you to do.”

Ava stood slowly, pushing herself to her feet and straightening her spine. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to utilize those skills you developed so magnificently in Cold Oak and kill someone.”

Ava narrowed her eyes. “Kill who?”

“Sam Winchester,” Lilith said.

Ava smiled evilly. “Consider it done.”

“There’s just one thing we need you to do first…” Lilith said with an indulgent air.

xXx

“Cas! Cas, you son of a bitch, get down here now!” Sam roared.

He didn’t know if his Cas was even hearing him. For all he knew, his prayers could be going to the dick that had just kidnapped his brother, and it wasn’t like _he_ was going to answer.

Sam didn’t know what else to do though. Anna had gone to search for Cas, to tell him what had happened, so Sam was alone. He’d called Bobby and he was on his way back, but that would take hours and there was no way to know what was happening to Dean in the meantime. Sam was anxious for the older hunter to arrive, even though he didn’t know what he expected Bobby to do.

Sam was losing his mind, and though that was probably the very worst thing he could do in that moment, he couldn’t help it. Dean was gone, and there was probably only one reason for the angels to step in and kidnap Michael’s vessel now; Lilith was about to launch her Plan B.

He threw himself down into a chair and covered his face with his hands. He had to calm down, he needed to take a breath and think, but all he could think about was Dean being held God knew where while Lilith was being killed.

But he did know where! The answer came to him as soon as he thought about it. Last time, when Sam had been with Ruby, killing that poor girl and drinking the blood, Dean had been taken to the beautiful room. The beautiful room that Adam had been held in, too. Sam knew where that was. Van Nuys, California.

Sam was on his feet in an instant. “Anna! Come back! I know where he is!”

Anna arrived an instant later in a flurry of noise. Her expression as tense as she asked, “Where is he?”

“Van Nuys. I remembered.”

“Why would Cas be in Van Nuys?”

“Not Cas,” Sam said, frustrated at her slowness. “Dean. He’s in that room the angels took him to last time.”

“Sam, we need to focus on what matters. We need Cas, not Dean. You said yourself that the only reason the angels would come for Dean now is if Lilith is prepared to act. We need to stop Lilith, not find Dean. We have to find out where Lilith is.”

But Sam already knew that, too. She would be in the convent in Maryland. Cas said there was an appointed place but not time. However she thought she was going to be killed, that was where it would happen. If he told Anna that, she would take him there, though, and he couldn’t go. He needed to find Dean. If Lucifer rose, who knew what the angels would do to Dean in order to get him to say yes. Sam couldn’t let that happen, not to his brother. They would get Dean back and then deal with Lilith.

Anna stiffed suddenly and flung Sam behind her. She spread her arms wide, and Sam knew what was coming—an angel.

Cas appeared and Sam was already struggling to get around Anna to attack him when he realized his mistake. Cas wasn’t wearing his tie.

“Cas?” he asked.

“Yes.”

They both started speaking at once.

“Lilith has resurrected Ava—”

“Castiel took Dean—”

Sam stopped, took a breath, and then started again. “Castiel came and took Dean. I think they’re in Van Nuys again. We’ve got to go get him back.”

“Sam,” Cas said a little sadly. “Ava has been raised. She is Plan B. We have to stop them.”

“But Dean…”

“Is not the mission,” Cas said. “I know what you fear and feel, I feel the same, but we have to stop Lilith. That is why we are here.”

Cas couldn’t understand. They had their profound bond or whatever but Dean was Sam’s brother. That mattered more than anything.

“I need to get him back, Cas.”

Cas smiled sadly. “I know you do, but we cannot lose sight of what matters.”

“Dean matters!”

“I know, but Lilith is more important now. That is what Dean would care about. He would make that the mission and fight for it. You have to do the same, Sam.”

Sam hated it, _hated_ it, but he knew Cas was right. He had to stow what he wanted and needed and think of the world. It was harder than almost anything, but it was what Dean would want him to do. Then an idea occurred to him. A compromise.

“Okay,” he said in a defeated tone. “We’ll work Lilith, _I’ll_ deal with her, but you’ve got to go after Dean. He needs to be safe, too.”

“But Lilith—“

“No!” Sam snapped. “I will take care of her. You’ve got to take care of Dean.” He hesitated for a moment and then made one final plea. “Please, Cas. I need to know that Dean’s going to be okay.”

“I think he’s right, Cas,” Anna said gently. “I can help Sam. You are better equipped to take care of Dean. If you are there, the other you, you can reason with him. If I go, he will kill me without question.”

Cas looked torn. It was obvious he wanted to take care of Lilith, too, but Sam was right when he said Dean mattered.

“I need this, Cas,” Sam said desperately.

For a long moment, Cas was silent, and then he nodded. “Okay. I will go to California but you must both go to Lilith. It will take them time to prepare. Ava will need to drink a massive amount of blood and she will probably need to practice on a few lesser demons first, but you still don’t have long. Sam, you must stop Ava before she kills Lilith. Lilith must not die.”

Sam nodded jerkily and grabbed the Impala keys from the counter. He jogged outside and opened the trunk, taking in the wealth of weapons on offer. He stuffed his favored Taurus in the back of his pants and then stuffed a knife in his boot.

Anna and Cas had followed him outside and they stood waiting as he stared into the trunk at Dean’s gun. He had no weapon with him. Bobby’s house was supposed to be their safe haven. He’d been taken without even his gun to defend himself.

“Sam?” Cas said.

Sam shook his head and slammed the trunk closed. “I’m ready. Cas, just… get him out, please.”

“I will,” Cas vowed. “And you… stop her.”

Sam nodded. “Consider it done."

Cas stared into his eyes for a moment and then he was gone. Anna stepped to Sam’s side and intertwined her fingers with his. There was a moment of weightlessness and then they were standing outside the convent. A chill of horror swept through Sam at being back in this place. It was steeped in the memories of his greatest mistake.

He had no time to dwell on it though. He shoved at the heavy wooden doors, but they would not budge. “Anna?” he said pointedly.

She walked forward and shoved them open with one hand, breaking the heavy bolt that held them closed from the inside. Sam ran through into the long hall. His heart pounded against his ribs. What was he going to find at the end? Would Lilith already be dead? Would he be too late? Would Lucifer already be there waiting for him and his consent? There was another set of doors, and he shoved them open, breath held tight in his chest.

The room was empty.

It looked the same as it had last time, with the heavy altar covered with cloth, but there was no one there. Not yet anyway.

“We’re not too late,” Anna said. “Lucifer hasn’t risen.”

Sam knew that. There would be blood if he had. Lilith’s blood spilled into an intricate pattern on the floor.

“Good,” Sam said brutally.

Just then, Sam heard footsteps coming along the hall.

“It’s Castiel,” Anna said in a fearful tone.

“Run!” Sam ordered. “Go! Help Cas and Dean!”

She didn’t move though. She drew her blade and squared her stance, preparing to fight. Sam moved to stand behind the door and drew the knife from his pocket. He cut across his palm, drawing a thick stream of blood and he began to daub on the wall. Anna shook her head, but he ignored her.

“I am not here to fight, Anna,” Castiel said, hurrying into the room.

Sam deliberated for a moment, unsure what to do. It could be a trick or a trap, or this could be Castiel’s redemption. He stared at this young version of his friend.

xXx

Cas had made a deal; Sam was to stop Ava and he was to save Dean. It was the right thing to do, but that didn’t stop him from wishing he hadn’t done it. He wished he had made any other deal, one that would have enabled him to stay with Sam. He wanted to be there to protect and support. Sam needed him, but here he was, standing outside a dingy warehouse in Van Nuys.

He didn’t know what he was going to face when he went into that place, but he knew it was less frightening to him than the idea that Sam would fail. He would gladly give his life if it meant Sam would succeed. It would be worth it. He only hoped Anna would have the same dedication to the cause.

There was a very real possibility that he was going to face himself now, the version that belonged in this time. How would that end? Perhaps in some crazy twist of fate, he would be killed by his own hand. He tried to imagine how he would react if he met himself spouting a story about time travel and saving the world—there was no way his past self would believe it. He was still faithful to the rules of the changeless universe.

Cas took a deep breath and entered the warehouse. He remembered the last time he had been here, banishing spell carved into his flesh. It cost him almost the last of his grace to do it. It had been worth it.

The warehouse was much as he remembered, rust pitted walls and grimy floor, but he cast the place no more than a passing glance as he walked towards the door that possibly led to his death.

It opened to his touch and he stepped through, feeling the touch of the divine as he entered. The room was exactly the same, priceless works of art on the walls, antique furniture and marble floors. Dean was sitting with his back to him with his head in his hands. Cas had all of a moment to appreciate the sight of his friend unhurt before he realized Dean wasn’t alone. How could he have forgotten?

Zachariah stood across the room, examining one of the paintings on the wall. He turned and frowned. “Castiel. What are you doing here?"

Cas understood at once and he blessed his luck. Zachariah thought he was the Castiel of this time.

Dean spun in his chair to look at him. For a moment he looked furious and then his eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him. Cas had not replaced his tie; the only differing feature to his past self was obvious to Dean but it would be no more than a curiosity to Zachariah if he even noticed it at all. Dean got to his feet and moved to stand against the wall.

“I ran into a complication,” Cas said, pulling the words out of nowhere. “There were many demons.”

Zachariah scoffed. “Lilith going with minions? I never imagined she would be so cowardly. Still, I do not understand why that should have stopped you. You have never been a coward before.”

“I was almost expelled from my vessel. I thought it prudent to return for assistance and instruction.”

Zachariah nodded slowly. “Okay. Well, my instruction is that you return and remained concealed. If the other Winchester comes, kill him.”

“You bastard!” Dean shouted, picking up a heavy vase and throwing it to the ground in an inexplicable show of anger. Dean was usually more controlled. Then Cas noticed him shifting his feet, dragging a large shard of porcelain towards him. Cas wasn’t entirely sure what his plan was, but he knew keeping Zachariah distracted was vital.

“You want me to kill Sam Winchester?” Cas asked, walking towards Zachariah, ensuring he was facing Dean so Zachariah would have to look away to meet his eye. Behind him, Dean nodded and bent to pick up the shard.

“Of course,” Zachariah said. “He is a nuisance and a menace. If he is dead, he will be out of the way until the pertinent moment. He can be resurrected just in time for Lucifer to take him over.”

Dean had cut across his palm. Cas understood. He was going to banish them.

“How do you know he will give his consent?” Cas asked.

“Because he is weak,” Zachariah said. “And there is only so much any man can take before he breaks. Isn’t that right, Dean?”

Zachariah turned and Cas saw his shoulders stiffen. “What do you think you’re doing, ant?” He started walking forward at a steady yet menacing pace.

Cas froze for a moment before launching into action. He ran forward, right up to Zachariah and his blade slid into his hand. In a swift, smooth movement, he plunged it into the back of Zachariah’s neck. It pierced muscle and flesh and scraped against bone. Cas heard a faint gasp, a gurgle, and then Zachariah fell forward, hitting the ground with a thud. Bright light spilled around the body and Dean covered his eyes.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, slowly lowering his arm from his face.

Cas looked down at his dead brother and nodded. “He is dead.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Kinda hard to live through a sword through the neck.” Dean shook his head, becoming serious at once. “Where’s Sam?”

“He is with Anna,” Cas said. “They are going to stop Lilith. Ava has been raised and she is to kill Lilith.”

“You sent him after Lilith alone?” Dean growled. “Are you insane? He’s going to get killed. What the hell were you thinking? He’s come all this way to save and you sacrificed him to Lilith like it was nothing!”

Cas stiffened. “I have sacrificed nothing, least of all Sam. You are not the only person who cares about him, Dean.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Take me to my damn brother right now!”

xXx

“I am not here to fight,” Castiel said almost desperately. “I want to help.”

Sam froze. The sigil was drawn on the wall and his palm was bloody, but he didn’t know whether to use it now. This could be Castiel’s redemption. This was the point when he had chosen the right side last time, but this Castiel seemed so different. Was he lying? Sam was torn.

Anna glanced at Sam and he saw the same indecision in her face. He needed guidance but there was none to be had.

“Please, Anna,” Castiel said. “Let me help you. Lilith is coming.”

He waved his hand and the door concealing Sam swung closed. He looked at Sam with imploring eyes. “I can help, Sam.”

Sam lowered his bloody hand and nodded slowly. He believed. He had to believe. This was Castiel, not the right version perhaps, but still Castiel. If this was his redeeming moment, he needed a chance.

He breathed a short sigh of relief and then, once again, it all went wrong.

Castiel and Anna gasped in unison and Cas breathed, “Lilith.”

It took Sam all of a second to decide what to do. Angels couldn’t kill Lilith. They hadn’t even been able to kill Alastair; he’d almost expelled Castiel from his body when they’d come face to face. It played out like a slideshow in his mind. Castiel facing Lilith. Lilith snatching the blade. Castiel dead on the floor, his magnificent wings as ashy marks on the floor. If Castiel died now, not only would Sam lose family, he would lose his chance to change the future. There would be no do-over. There would be no help. The world would be doomed. He couldn’t let it happen. He had to act. He slammed his hand on the sigil and the force swept through the room, dragging Castiel and Anna away.

He was alone for a moment, and then the door swung open and Lilith and Ava walked into the room. Lilith was in the body of a young woman, a beautiful woman, and Sam felt a pang of guilt for her fate.

“Sam,” Lilith said with glee when she spotted him. “Here for the big finish?”

Sam shook his head, his hand creeping to the small of his back where his gun was concealed.

Lilith laughed softly. “You can’t shoot me, Sam. I am not some monster that can be slain with a silver bullet. I know you’re desperate, but this is just stupid.”

Ava was watching their exchange with a furrowed brow. “What’s going on?”

“Did she tell you what would happen if you did it, Ava?” Sam asked. “What will happen to the world? If she dies, Lucifer will rise. The Devil will walk the earth and we will all be doomed. The apocalypse will happen, and millions will die in the first year alone.”

Ava glanced at Lilith. “Is this true?”

“Of course not,” Lilith said. “I told you, Ava, this is for me and me alone. I have lived a long time, too long, and I wish for peace. You are not dooming the world. You are setting me free.”

“Think!” Sam snapped. “Why else would I be here to stop it? I want Lilith dead more than anything, but I can’t do it.”

“Because you’re dried out?” Ava asked. “She told me about that.”

Sam shook his head dolefully. “No. Because it’s wrong.” He sucked in a breath. “I am not Sam of this time. I have come back from years ahead to stop this. The apocalypse, the death, the disasters, they will happen if you do this.”

Sam saw the realization settle over Lilith, but only for a moment. She was soon smiling again. “Time travel? Really? You’re insane, Sam. I have suspected it for a long time, but you just proved it. Even if time travel was possible, you can’t change the future.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Sam turned his attention to Ava again. “Don’t do this, Ava.”

“I have to,” Ava said in a mournful tone. “It’s the only way I can live again. She told me if I did this I would get to live again. I can’t go back to that place, Sam. I can’t bear it.”

She turned to Lilith and Sam knew further argument was pointless. Ava was going to do it and there was nothing he could say that would stop her.

The worst part was that this could have been him. It would have been him if he had been through what she had. She’d been ripped from her home. Her fiancé had been killed. She had been trapped in Cold Oak for months, fighting to the death against who knew how many other special children. She’d been forced to change to survive. It could have been Sam if he hadn’t had Dean to protect him.

He raised the gun and pointed it at her head. He squeezed the trigger. Lilith screamed out but Sam barely heard it over the report of the gun. Ava dropped to the floor, a perfect hole in her temple and a gaping hole at the back. She was dead.

Lilith looked from her to Sam and her lips were pulled back in a snarl that destroyed her beauty. “How dare you?” she screeched.

“I dare because I know what will happen,” Sam said dully. “I wasn’t lying. I have seen it all before.”

Lilith laughed a little hysterically. “You’re insane.”

“Perhaps,” Sam said. “But you’re alive. Which of us will suffer more?”

She glared at him as if willing him dead through thought alone. Sam stared back, seeing her pain and relishing it.

“It’s done,” he said. “You will live knowing you failed, and I will live in a better future.”

Lilith’s hands were fisted and her expression was furious. “This isn’t the end, Winchester.”

Sam smiled grimly. “That’s where you’re wrong. This is exactly where it ends.”

xXx

Cas and Dean arrived at the doors of the convent and Dean took off running inside before Cas had even drawn a breath. He followed, afraid of what he would see. Could Sam have done it? Would Lilith still be there? Worst of all, was Sam even alive anymore?

That thought made him run instead of walk.

He heard Dean’s breathless whisper of his brother’s name, and he almost froze. Only the need to know made it possible for him to keep going.

Dean was standing motionless in the doorway to the chapel. Cas shoved him aside roughly and sighed with relief at what he saw.

Sam was alive.

He was sitting on the floor with the body of Ava held against his chest. His face was buried against her shoulder and he was shaking with sobs.

“Sam,” he said sadly.

Sam looked up and Cas saw the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I did it,” he said but there was no joy in his voice. “I stopped her.”

Dean walked forward and knelt beside him. “You did it, Sammy. We won.”

Sam sniffed. “Doesn’t feel like winning, Dean. Feels a lot like failure.”

Dean frowned.

“Don’t you see?” Sam asked. “This was murder. It was for the world, but it was still murder. Ava wasn’t evil. She was going to do it because she thought it would save her. She was an innocent. She was sweet.” He looked up at Cas, searching for understanding. “She saved my life once, a complete stranger. She left her fiancé and came to me to warn me, and it saved me. Her fiancé was killed and she was taken, and none of it was her fault.”

“I know,” Cas said solemnly.

Sam locked his eyes on Dean. “If I didn’t have you, this would have been me. Do you understand?”

Dean was silent for a long moment and then he nodded. He gripped the back of Sam’s neck and said, “I understand, Sammy. I know it hurts, but you did it. You saved the world.”

“Again,” Cas added.

Sam nodded slightly and buried his face in Ava’s shoulder once again, victorious but mourning.


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jenjoremy for beta’ing, Gredelina1 for helping me get the ideas out, and you all for following me on this journey.

****

 

Dean had called the meeting, and he was in charge of it, but that didn’t stop Sam’s hands from shaking with nerves. Dean had called Castiel, the Castiel that belonged in this time, to Bobby’s place, and there he had laid down the facts of everything that had happened and everything Sam and his future self had done. When Dean had finished, Sam had told him the story of the future and what the world would have become if they hadn’t acted. Castiel had been incredulous, doubtful, but now he seemed to be coming around to accepting.

“I should like to speak to myself,” Castiel said.

They had expected that Castiel would need proof of the incredible story they were telling him, and so Dean nodded and whistled loudly, apparently unable to deny himself one last chance to screw with Cas. “Cas, come on down. Apparently you need to talk to yourself.”

The kitchen door opened and Cas walked in. He showed no anger at Dean for his unconventional summoning. He merely looked intently at the past version of himself. “Hello.”

Castiel looked stunned but he quickly gathered himself. “Hello.”

“Well if this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, I don’t know what is,” Bobby murmured.

Sam nodded his agreement. The two Castiels were identical apart from the missing tie around Cas’s neck. Even their expressions were the same as they looked at each other, bemused and a little awed.

“Dean has told me an unbelievable story,” Castiel said.

Cas nodded. “And yet you believe.”

“I do. I understand as I would do the very same thing now, even without memories of an apocalypse to compel me, if I could bring the Host back to what it once was.”

Cas sighed sadly. “The Host needs to heal itself. It will happen, I am confident, now that their plans have failed. You have changed already, have you not?”

“I have. I changed the moment Zachariah told me the plan. I tried to help.” He scowled at Sam. “But I was banished.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Changed he may be, but this version of Castiel was still a bit of a dick. “I banished you to save your life. Some thanks would be nice.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said awkwardly, as if the words felt wrong on his tongue.

Sam smiled. Maybe not such a dick after all.

“What happens next?” Castiel asked.

“No one knows who killed Zachariah, do they?” Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head. “It is a mystery to them all, as is your escape. I imagine the blame will eventually fall on Anna.”

“That’s nothing new for her,” Sam pointed out.

“Exactly,” Cas said. “This is as good as things can possibly get for us, I think.”

“Okay then,” Dean said happily, clapping his hands together. “That’s done. What happens next?”

Castiel looked to his future self. “What do I do now? Can I still serve Heaven knowing what they were planning?”

“That’s your choice to make,” Cas said. “Do not make it lightly.”

Sam watched the play of emotions on Castiel’s face as he battled his decision.

“I will remain faithful,” he said eventually. “If I am within the Host’s confidences, I will know their plans. It will be better for all concerned.”

“Thank you,” Sam said sincerely, knowing what it would cost the angel to do this. He would be forced to pay obeisance to those who would have destroyed the world if given free rein.

“What about you two?” Dean asked, looking from Sam to Castiel. “What are you going to do now?”

“There are still a few things for us to do,” Cas said, glancing at Sam, “but then I think we will be free to return home. If you’re ready, of course.”

Sam was more than ready. He would stay forever if that was what it took to save the world, but if he could go back to his time, he would do it with glee. He wanted to see Dean and Bobby again, the ones who belonged to him, not the versions he had borrowed from his past self. He wanted to live in the new world he and Castiel had created, the world without the Devil and the apocalypse.

“You don’t think we should stay?” Sam asked doubtfully.

Surprisingly, it was Dean that answered. “No. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been awesome having this older, more mature version of you around, but you’ve got to trust yourself to make the right choices in this time. There’s a Sam who belongs here, and it’s about time he got to test himself again.”

Sam nodded and smiled. Dean was right. He had to trust himself; otherwise, it was all for nothing for him. The world would be saved, but he would be unchanged.

“Okay then, Cas, let’s get home.”

xXx

One of the things left to do was deal with Ava’s body. Sam wanted her buried in her grave again, a respectful and fitting end for someone he grieved, but Cas argued against it. She could not be left whole; it would be too much of a temptation to the demons. Eventually, Sam saw the truth in Cas’s words, and agreed to allow Anna to scatter her molecules over the oceans, much as she had once planned to do with Sam in a now changed future. The same fate met Ansem Weems and Jake Talley—the other special children who had given themselves over totally to the powers Azazel gave them. Lilith could search for lifetimes and she would never be able to find all of them. Anna would be Lilith’s shadow now. If the demon came topside, Anna would be there to watch out for the Winchesters.

The last of their preparations for the future completed, it was time for Sam and Cas to return to their own time. They were congregated in the library of Bobby’s home, and Sam was once more imploring Dean to restrain his younger self.

“He might remember,” Sam said. “After I killed Alastair, when I was in the hospital, he caught a glimpse, but you have to make sure he knows it’s not worth it.”

“I know, I know,” Dean said. “Don’t worry, Sammy, just as soon as you’re gone, me and you are going to have a long talk.”

Sam nodded and then drew a deep breath. “I guess this is goodbye then.”

Dean smiled. “For like thirty seconds. You’ll be back there with me and I’ll be here with you.”

“You know what I mean,” Sam said.

“I do,” Dean said, becoming serious. “I get it. It’s the same for me, too. But it’s what has to happen.”

In a moment of perfect synchronicity, the both stepped forward and brought their arms up to embrace the other. It lasted only a moment, soon they were slapping backs and moving back, but Cas knew that was just Winchester custom, to make it seem as nothing. Sam turned to Bobby who was looking solemn.

“See you real soon, boy,” Bobby said.

Sam smiled. “Give or take a couple years, yeah.”

Bobby nodded and smiled then became solemn. “Thank you, Sam. For doing this, all of it. I know it’s been tough on you, tougher than tough, but you did it. We’re grateful.”

“Yeah,” Dean said gruffly. “Thanks.”

Sam nodded slightly and cleared his throat. “Okay then, Cas. I guess it’s time.” He sat down on the couch and laid his hands flat on his knees.

Cas walked forward and laid his upturned hand on Sam’s sternum. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Sam said, closing his eyes and bracing himself.

Cas pushed forward, his hand creeping through Sam’s chest until he found the two souls nestled against each other. Sam cried out in pain and Dean and Bobby shouted, but Cas ignored them all. He had to be concentrated and careful to do this without tragedy. The soul he needed to retrieve was obviously different, flayed and raw as it was, and he cupped his fingers around it and then withdrew his hand from Sam.

He looked to Dean and Bobby, seeing the awe in their face and then, holding the soul close against him, he spread his wings and took flight for the last time from this place and returned to his own time.

xXx

Bobby was reading at his desk and Dean was stretched out of the couch under the window when Cas arrived. Bobby lurched to his feet as soon as he saw Cas. “Is that…?” he asked in a breathy voice.

Cas nodded. “I have him.”

Bobby hurried to the couch and slapped Dean’s chest. “Wake up, Dean! Sam’s back!”

Dean jerked awake and was on his feet before his eyes had even cleared from sleep. “Sammy?”

“Here,” Cas said serenely.

“Thank god,” Dean breathed. “Let’s get him back where he belongs.”

Dean and Bobby practically ran from the room down to the basement, and Cas followed at a slower pace, exquisitely aware of the precious thing he held in his hand.

As he entered the panic room, he saw Sam writhing on the cot, trying to fight his way free.

“The wanderer returns,” Balthazar said in a dry voice. “Finally.”

“Don’t do this!” Sam snarled.

Cas ignored him completely. “The chains please, Dean,” he said.

Dean took a key from his pocket and opened the padlock. The chains clinked away and Sam’s struggles increased in fervor. Balthazar gripped his shoulders and pinned him in place as Cas lowered the soul to Sam’s chest gently. Sam’s eyes were wide and horrified as he stared down at it.

Cas drew a deep, calming breath and then pressed down gently. The soul slipped into place with ease, seemingly joyous to be reunited with its correct body at last. When Cas was certain it was settled, he withdrew his hand and stepped back. Sam’s eyes were closed, but his breaths were easy. He would wake soon.

“Is he okay?” Dean asked.

“He is perfectly fine,” Cas said. “He just needs a moment.”

Cas unbuckled the restraints around Sam’s wrists and ankles and then waited. All was perfectly silent for a minute until Sam’s eyes began to rove beneath their lids.

“Sammy, easy,” Dean said in a gentler voice than Cas had ever heard him use before. “You’re okay.”

“Dean?” Sam asked in a soft voice.

Dean smiled widely. “The one and only.”

Sam’s eyes opened and a look of blissful relief spread across his features. In a swift, smooth movement, he twisted so he was sitting on the edge of the cot and looked up at Cas. “We did it.” It wasn’t a question.

“We did,” Cas agreed. He could feel the memories changing now of the years between. An apocalypse replaced with lives saved on the usual, smaller scale.

“Good,” Sam said with satisfaction. “That’s… good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… There you have it. That’s the end. Hopefully it was a satisfying ending for the story you’ve all put your time into reading. If you’re hankering for a new read, I have a bunch of other stories on my profile including my latest WIP Bond Of Brotherhood. I am also working on a couple new stories that I’m not posting yet, so add me to alerts if you want to hear about them when they’re ready.   
> Thanks again for supporting me this far.  
> Until the next story…  
> Clowns or Midgets xxx

**Author's Note:**

> So…who’s with me on the journey this time? The story is completely written so there’s no danger of me abandoning it.  
> I have been very lucky with readers and reviewers with my past stories, and that really helps motivate me to write, so I hope some of you have followed me here this time.  
> Until next time…  
> Clowns or Midgets xxx


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